


Something Just Like This

by justrae2010



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Awkward Dates, Courtroom Drama, Custody Battle, Cute Kids, Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Dates, Family Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, One Night Stands, Post-Divorce, Single Parents, Weddings, Yura and Otabek are kids, victor is a single dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: Ten years ago, Victor and Yuuri broke up.Now, Victor is a lost-for-inspiration designer, freshly divorced with two young children in tow - a far cry from the five time World Champion he used to be.Yuuri works in a coffee shop...... when who should wander in, but his lost love Victor Nikiforov, with those life-torn sparkling blue eyes and weary heart-shaped smile making his wild heart beat just as traitorously as before like the last ten years had been nothing but ten minutes.Maybe it wasn't as over as they'd thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I am struggling to complete my other fics so let's just post one of the WIPs instead xD

Yuuri could hear how exhausted his next customer was before the cafe’s welcome bell had even finished ringing, pausing his thumb smudging his name into the mirror perfect table top of the counter to alleviate his boredom. The whine of a child hit him first. Then the heavy sigh of a tired parent.

“Papa,  _ please!  _ Beka gets to-”

“Yura, please…”

Yuuri blinked up, fixing the polite smile on his face instinctively as he straightened up behind the cafe counter. It slid away in a heartbeat.

Victor Nikiforov froze in front of him.

He was barely two steps in the door, dressed in an immaculate suit with a tiny blonde haired child hanging onto his arm, tugging impatiently at his sleeve. His son. Yuuri had seen his picture in the magazines. A sullen exhaustion ringed under Victor’s once vibrant blue eyes, sparking slowly to life the more they scoured over the barista of Hasetsu Cafe. His back straightened a fraction, air sucking sharply through his teeth.

“ _ Yuuri?”  _ Victor blinked at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Is that you?”

Yuuri wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. The blood drained from his face and a nausea tanged at the back of his throat as Victor stepped forward, stepped closer. Victor Nikiforov was here. His ex of a decade ago was here.

He looked just as beautiful as ever. Tiny lines played around the corners of Victor’s mouth and ever so slightly across his pale forehead, his old bangs gone and hair trimmed short with the front strands swept up and to the side. It still suited him somehow. His lips flickered in an uncertain smile as he settled on the other side of the counter, roaming Yuuri up and down like he hadn’t seen Yuuri in years. Well, he hadn’t. It had been ten years since Yuuri had last seen Victor Nikiforov in person.

The time didn’t show much on Yuuri’s face. His hair was still shaggy and dark. Tiny lines carved into his forehead from the nearly constant anxious crease of his brow. A little more weight than he was proud of hugged around his middle, but at least the flap of his apron hid that from Victor for now.

Victor Nikiforov.

His ex-boyfriend.

His ex-fiancee.

His  _ customer _ .

Finally, Yuuri remembered how to speak, heat warming his face traitorously. “Um, what can I get for you today?”

Victor’s eyebrows blinked higher up his face, eyes flashing with surprise. “Oh. Right.” It was like he’d forgotten where he was, suddenly remembering as Yuuri jolted him back to reality. Those crystal blue eyes Yuuri remembered so fondly scoured over the menu board behind him. “One cappuccino, one hot chocolate, and uh, Yura-” Victor blinked down at the pouting child hanging off his arm. “Cookie?”

Yuuri punched it into the cash register along with the drinks order as the little boy nodded, giving  _ exceptional  _ attention to each key he pressed. Anything to avoid looking at Victor.

Making the coffee helped. It kept his hands busy, kept his mind thinking about something else other than the curious eyes bearing into the back of his head, watching his every move. It took everything in him to keep his hands from shaking, lining up the cups neatly on the tray next to the home baked chocolate chip cookie. Phichit’s boyfriend’s speciality.

His gaze flickered up when Victor reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yuuri mumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You look like you need it.”

The moment the words left his mouth Yuuri felt his cheeks burn and he slapped a mental palm to his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut, officially wishing he would just vanish into thin air. He  _ had not _ just said that. To Victor Nikiforov. Oh God, he had…

“Oh...”

Yuuri couldn't quite place the tone of Victor’s voice.

“Thank you.”

When Yuuri peeled his eyes open again, he’d hoped Victor had taken his tray and disappeared across the cafe with his son, pretending like nothing had happened. Like nothing was weird. It was all so weird. So very, very weird.

He hadn't though. Victor was still stood at the counter, just… staring.

Yuuri gulped self-consciously. “Um, is there anything else?”

“When do you get on a break?”

It wasn't what Yuuri had expected. He blinked at the question, trying to remember how to speak. His throat was suddenly ridiculously dry. What could he say? Technically he was due a break but hadn’t bothered to actually take it - because who needed a break when you only had three customers in the space of a whole morning? He cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping it didn’t sound as pathetic to the rest of the world as it did to his own ears.

“Um…” when had words gotten so difficult? “Five minutes?”

A smile flickered over Victor’s lips. “Spare a few for me?” he asked, eyes glittering and eyelashes fluttering delicately. Like Yuuri could ever say no to him… “Would be nice to catch up after so long.”

“Y-yeah. I’ll, um… I’ll come find you.”

Another smile pressed into Victor’s lips. 

His head jerked behind him to the back of the cafe. “I’ll be the old man in the corner,” he winked, stepping back with his tray.

* * *

Five minutes passed way too quickly. Yuuri could feel Victor watching him subtly across the cafe - as much as he could with one eye on the toddler playing in the child’s section, just close enough for Victor to keep track of what the kid was doing and just far enough for the boy not to be able to hear them talking. It was all very deliberate. Yuuri knew Victor; he didn’t do anything by accident.

He made himself a green tea to take over, clutching the cup like holding onto it held onto the string of his nerve too somehow. 

“Hi,” Yuuri smiled awkwardly, sitting in the table across from Victor. He tried “How are you?”

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Victor just said with a small shake of his head that Yuuri couldn’t quite pinpoint. Wistful? Disappointed? Smug? The sparkle in his eyes threw him off from the smirk playing on his lips, leaving him unsure. “I mean… it’s really you…”

Yuuri just shifted awkwardly in the chair. “Small world, huh?”

“It’s been ten years…”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say back.

“What are you doing in a  _ coffee shop _ ?”

Yuuri shrugged.

“I’m good at it,” he said defensively.

“But your degree…”

_ Another shrug _ . 

“I’m better at this.”

It wasn't entirely true… but after Victor, how could Yuuri possibly do anything but fade? He'd reached his peak under the Russian. He'd got gold medal on the world stage, for God's sake! There was nothing better than that!

...and after Victor left him, Yuuri hadn’t really ever wanted there to be.

Victor had been the best of his life.

Yuuri hadn't wanted anything else to shine - no matter how meagre - to take away from that starlight.

He couldn't admit that to Victor though. He'd rather die than admit how heartbroken the Russian had left him all those years ago. It had only been harder watching Victor thrive after him after all. Marriage, children, his designer line taking off across the world…

It hurt that Victor had the audacity to  _ smile _ at Yuuri now after all that, after all the pieces he'd left Yuuri to pick up while he'd chased the stars.

He propped his chin in his palm, staring shamelessly across the table. 

Yuuri guessed some things never changed...

“Yuuri Katsuki…” Victor murmured with the tiniest shake if his head. “Still in warmup mode, even after all this time…”

Yuuri's heart balked, remembering the first time Victor had said that to him. The flush burned on his cheeks. 

He hoped Victor didn't notice. 

The twitch of the Russian's lips said otherwise though.

“W-what about you?” he changed the subject instead, stirring his tea and following the flow of the liquid avidly. “How are you lately?”

He couldn't look at Victor. He couldn't, absolutely not. Even when he felt those crystal depths breathing over his skin, drinking him in, teasing him to look up and meet them-

“Happily divorced.”

Yuuri blinked at that. 

He stopped stirring the tea. “Oh…”

He hadn't expected that.

Eyes flickered down instinctively. Sure enough, the ring was gone. Pale strip of skin to betray just how recently it had been removed.

“I see you found someone though,” Victor nodded.

Yuuri’s hand twitched around his cup. “Yeah…”

It took everything in him not to rub his hand over the gold band on his right ring finger and bury it from sight, shame spearing him deep through the heart. While Victor had hitched up with someone else and moved on after their breakup, Yuuri was never going to admit that ten years down the line the wedding ring he wore was still the one that Victor had given him so long ago. He’d never moved on.

Why was Victor even here? Yuuri wondered it for the hundredth time. It was more than coincidence, it was more than fate.  _ Why was Victor Nikiforov here?  _ It wasn’t fair he got to just walk through the door and ruin Yuuri’s life all over again after so long.

He didn’t know what to say to the man anymore. He wasn’t the Victor he knew - not anymore. He wasn’t the man he’d fallen in love with.

The little blonde boy hurried up to the table, driving the point home as he tugged on his father’s sleeve. A child… proof that Victor had loved somebody else, and he’d loved them more than he’d ever loved Yuuri. 

It hurt more than Yuuri cared to admit.

“Who’s that, Da?” the boy asked in English, shoving a clumsy crayon drawing onto the tabletop and glancing his pouty frown in Yuuri’s direction.

Yuuri stiffened.

Victor just smiled, glancing up with his award-winning grin. Not the heart shaped smile Yuuri had fallen in love with. He guessed that had all been a fantasy… “He’s an old friend.”

Yuuri choked on air.

God, it hurt. It hurt more than he could have ever imagined, chest tight and eyes stinging even though there was absolutely no way he could cry in front of Victor and his son.  _ Friend _ . After all that had happened, that was all he was left with.  _ Friend. _

Yuuri was glad when the boy ran off without asking anymore questions, not sure his nerves would have been able to take it. He needed to talk about something - anything!

“H-he’s yours?”

_ Anything but that… _

Yuuri groaned silently as he heard himself ask the question, the one that surely could only lead to more painful memories from whatever answer came his way.

Victor just smiled fondly though, oblivious. “My youngest,” he said, eyes distant. “My eldest is at a music class.”

Now Yuuri had to ask… “What’s his name?”

Victor’s smile stretched a fraction wider, still soft. Genuine. The paparazzi sparkle had simmered into something warmer. Yuuri had almost forgotten Victor could smile like that … “Beka,” he said, voice wistful. “Short for Otabek.”

Yuuri’s lips twitched sadly - they were nothing like the Russo-Japanese names they had once picked out, dreaming of children in their future that would never come to pass.

He couldn’t linger on it though - not unless he wanted his heart to really and truly shatter, gaze wandering to the little child scampering with the crayons across the cafe. In another life, he might have had black hair instead of blonde. He was happy for Victor though. He had to be. Victor had his children. He’d always wanted children. He’d always have made a good dad, Yuuri had never had any doubt of that. 

He’d just wished it had been with him... 

“Beka Nikiforov,” Yuuri said, testing the words out on his tongue. It wasn’t what he’d expected. “And Yur - oh!”

He blinked in surprise, eyes locked across the room.

The boy’s crayons had moved on from the paper - onto the walls instead. Yuuri watched the blue etch into the pale wallpaper with a sinking heart, dreading cleaning it off somehow.

Victor followed his gaze with a frown - and leapt to his feet. “Yuri!”

Yuuri froze - so did Victor, suddenly realising what he’d just said aloud. A lump lodged in Yuuri’s throat, next breath rasping. “Yura... a-as in…” his gaze flickered up. Was it just him or was Victor just a bit paler than before? “Yuuri?”

A sheepish smile flittered over Victor’s face. “Only one ‘u’...” He shrugged.

Yuuri could feel the blood pounding in his ears, a thousand emotions running through him at once. Victor had named his child after him. Pride and flattery warmed his cheeks, fresh hurt tightening his chest, regret and longing stinging tears in the corner of his eyes for what could have been - what  _ should  _ have been-

Victor sank slowly back into his chair, clearing his throat. He leaned forward across the table, catching Yuuri’s eye. 

“Could we maybe talk?” he asked, a spark simmering in his gazer. “Without the kids around. Dinner, maybe? You could bring your husband - or wife!” Victor’s eyes flashed with panic. “Or, um…that is, I didn’t mean...”

Yuuri barely saw the red dash over the bridge of Victor’s nose before the Russian dropped his face into his hands and groaned, murmuring an apology through his fingers.

Yuuri almost wanted to laugh. 

Victor flustered - Victor was  _ never  _ flustered! At least, the Victor he had known had never been! It was odd seeing a new side to him, someone he’d thought he’d known inside out.

Clearly not.

He couldn’t help himself, feeling the smile spread traitorously on his face. He never had been able to say no to Victor Nikiforov... 

“Sounds great,” he said before he could overthink it. “I-I think they might be busy though.”

Victor’s shoulders bobbed with his chuckle. Yuuri could hear the grin in his voice. “We haven’t set a date yet...” Victor said, sparkling eyes peeking up over his fingertips.

Yuuri flushed scarlet.  _ Shit _ . “They, um, t-they work late shifts.”

“Mhm.” 

Victor was still grinning as his hands fell away from his face, sitting straighter in his chair. He looked younger when he smiled like that. “How’s tomorrow night? Dasha’s got the kids tomorrow.”

Dasha. His wife. Ex wife.

“Okay,” Yuuri swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to think about it.

Of course he knew about her though. He’d seen Dasha and Victor splattered throughout the magazines when Victor had first dumped him, then again when they got married, then again when they’d had their first child. He knew her, the red haired beauty that had snatched his Victor away from him.

He felt his face fall and caught himself before Victor could notice, hiding behind a sip of his tea. He couldn’t let Victor see it bothered him. After all, it was ten years ago…

Victor was still grinning as he checked his watch and called Yura over, pulling a pen out of his pocket with one hand and the napkin closer across the table with the other. He wrote down his phone number. Yuuri could tell before Victor even handed over that it was the same as ten years ago. He never did change his phone number, even before - so he didn’t forget it.  _ Some things never change,  _ Yuuri thought fondly.

Yuuri didn’t pick it up - he’d never even deleted it from his phone in the first place. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Not that he would ever admit that to Victor.

“Text me your address,” Victor said as he stood up and slipped his coat over his shoulders, taking up Yura’s hand at his side once he was ready. There was a healthy flush on his cheeks, a small delight behind his tired eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d walked in. 

A selfish part of Yuuri hoped that it was something to do with him.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri jerked in his seat, head twisting instinctively towards the voice - to the door. Victor Nikiforov stood in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder with one of those devastatingly beautiful smiles on his face. It stopped Yuuri’s heart dead in his chest, no less effective after the decade apart.

It might have been Yuuri’s imagination, but he thought Victor’s smile widened a fraction. “It’s good to see you again.”

* * *

“Yuuri, you can’t be serious.”

“It’s just dinner, Phichit.”

“Yuuri, it’s never just dinner...”

Yuuri hadn’t told Phichit about the dinner with Victor until an hour before he was due to leave. He knew that Phichit wouldn’t like it. Hell, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t like it either!

But it was Victor...

“It will be fine,” he said absentmindedly as he ran his gel tipped fingers through his hair - not sure if he was trying to convince Phichit or himself. “He’s got kids now. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Yuuri…” Phichit pressed his lips together over Yuuri’s shoulder in the mirror. Yuuri stopped fussing with his hair long enough to catch his friend’s eye in the reflection. “You know this is a bad idea, right?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly. 

“It will be fine,” he said stiffly, turning his attention back to his reflection and undoing an extra button on his shirt

It would be fine, he told himself. He was a grown adult. Victor was a grown adult. Victor had been married with kids and Yuuri… well, Yuuri worked in a cafe. They were different. Everything was different. And yet they’d still found each other, in all that new world ten after ten years of separate lives,  _ they’d found each other -  _ it had to mean something!

“You were in love with the guy for a long time, Yuuri. Are you sure that this isn’t… you know… a date?” Phichit looking at him with  _ those eyes.  _ “I just don’t want you to get hurt…"

Oh, what Yuuri would have once given to have another date with Victor… he couldn't not go. He had to see him again. He had to. One last time.

“I’ll be fine," he said, shaking his head clear. "It’s been ten years.”

What was the worst that could happen? Victor had already broken up with him once.

* * *

Two hours later, Yuuri felt humiliated.

Sat on the curb outside the restaurant – that they had missed their reservation for by more than an hour – and Yuuri was  _ still  _ waiting for Victor Nikiforov to show up. Why was he waiting? He knew it was stupid. He was stupid, blinking dumbly down at the misty raindrops hitting the road. Victor had stood him up and let him on  _ again _ , and Yuuri had fallen for it like he did every time-

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri jumped, head jerking up out of his hands.

Victor was there, trotting across the road with his open jacket flying around him, cheeks flushed and eyes fidgety, like he was thinking a million different things behind them and couldn’t decide on just one to settle on. Yuuri knew exactly what that was like. It was weird seeing it on Victor though.

He stood up slowly from the curb as Victor approached, trying to hold together the pieces of his broken pride. He didn’t want Victor to see him cry. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor sighed as he drew near, running a hand through his damp hair and combing it back from his forehead. “Dasha was late picking up the kids and then Yura threw a fit because he couldn’t find his…”

Yuuri didn’t hear a word.

His heart was hammering in his chest, pulse pounding loudly in his ears. He was itching to say ‘it’s okay’ and plaster a fake smile on his face just to get it over with… but he couldn’t.

Phichit had been right. This had been a mistake.   
It wasn’t okay. Victor had left Yuuri stood in the pouring rain without so much of a call, the excuses already falling thick and fast from the Russian’s lips because it was  _ never _ his fault. There was always an excuse. That had been the start of the end for them ten years ago too. Now, they couldn’t even get past the first date.

_ Dinner _ , Yuuri quickly corrected himself, fists curled at his side and teeth clenched tight. Not a date. It could never be a date.

Yuuri would never be a priority in Victor’s life. 

Victor cut himself off halfway through whatever he’d been saying - something about his car, Yuuri vaguely caught. He sighed heavily. Then he shut his mouth, head hanging forward. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, tone defeated. “I should have called.”

Yuuri blinked, surprised. 

Victor had ...  _ apologised _ \- and Yuuri hadn’t even needed to convince him to do it! Where was the Victor that batted his eyelashes and reduced Yuuri to a puddle whenever he was supposed to be in trouble? Charming his way out of consequences because he was  _ Victor Nikiforov, _ and he simply  _ could.  _ He’d really changed…

Yuuri wasn’t sure if that was really for the better.

Looking at him now, Victor looked tired. His shoulders had a defeated sag that didn’t show on his face, the way his head hung low, no longer tall and proud, king of the world… Victor Nikiforov looked exhausted. He didn’t look anything like himself. Now that Yuuri looked closer, he could see bags under his eyes too.

It was kind of… well, sad.

His heart strings pulled, against his better judgement. He should go back inside. He should say goodnight to Victor. He should delete the number from his phone once and for all…

Instead, he reached forward and took Victor’s hand.

“Come on,” he said, stepping off the curb and pulling Victor along with him. Screw the fancy restaurant. Yuuri knew what Victor really needed. “I know a bar that does good burgers.”

* * *

Victor’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair, top buttons on his shirt undone and a trail of grease running down his chin as he bit into his burger with a eye-fluttering moan that had Yuuri squirming on his chair to witness… it was weird. 

“You’re staring,” Victor said loudly over the music through his mouthful, attention still rapt on his meal. He washed the bite down with a deep gulp of beer.

Yuuri didn’t stop staring. “I can’t help it,” he said. “It’s just so...  _ weird _ .”

“What is?”

“Seeing you…  _ messy _ .”

Victor choked on a laugh, cheeks flushing pink in the scattered disco lights from the dancefloor across the bar. “Kids will do that to you. Everything is messy.” He glanced up, eyes sparkling. He looked more like Victor Nikiforov again... “You’ll find out one day.”

Yuuri’s eyes flashed wide.

He had hoped to find out one day… but that dream had died the day that Victor had walked out the door ten years ago. He only wanted it if it was with Victor.

And Victor had decided to take that adventure without him.

Yuuri glanced away, fingers curling tight around his beer as he finished the glass. He didn’t drink beer much - but it went well with burgers and Victor had looked like he needed everything dirty, and pitying, and so, so good...they’d had a few by now, empty glasses strewn across the table. The buzz simmering under his skin was probably all that gave him the courage to still be sat there...

“Sorry.” 

Across the table, Victor looked down. His smile was gone, wiping the grease from his chin with the back of his hand. Another tired flicker passed over his face. 

“I finally get a night away from the kids and they’re all I can talk about...” he chuckled humourlessly. “I should be asking about you.”

Yuuri ignored the second statement. “You love them.”

Victor’s lips quirked, gaze softening.  _ Glowing _ . Yuuri would have given anything to have Victor Nikiforov look like that while thinking about him once upon a time. Maybe he still would…

“I do,” Victor said softly, smiling gently down at his plate. After a moment, he glanced up again. His smile widened. “You’re still sweet.”

Yuuri blushed, glancing away.

He couldn’t help it - the fondness in Victor’s eyes was just …  _ everything _ he’d ever wanted before and that he wasn’t allowed to have now. It wasn’t fair for Victor to look at him like that. With those eyes, and that smile, paying him compliments… it wasn’t fair. Yuuri curled his fingers into fists under the table, clenching and unclenching them, trying to focus on that rather than the warmth in Victor’s gaze and-

“Can you still dance?”

Yuuri jolted in his seat. “What?”

He hadn’t danced since Victor had left him.

Panic flashed through him, eyes shooting wide as they met Victor’s mischievous sparkle. He knew that look. He’d  _ loved _ that look once. 

He leaned back in his chair. “No, no-”

But Victor was already pulling him to his feet, dragging him across the bar with a final clatter from their table and a cheeky wink over his shoulder. Yuuri stumbled after him, heart in his mouth.

The dance floor was crowded, the floor sticky, and the lights bouncing off Victor's alabaster skin. The music was too loud, Yuuri barely able to hear his own thoughts as he fell clumsily into step behind Victor.

He hadn't danced in years - he wasn't even sure he remembered how. It had always held too many memories - too many memories that reminded him of Victor that were just too painful to bear after their breakup. But somehow, just one look at the brilliant beam on Victor's face and the flush on his cheeks brought it all back, his hips loosening and knees softening.

He let Victor twirl him under his arm, shamelessly seeking out Victor's eyes as he turned. He couldn't help it - a little part of him would always be in love with Victor Nikiforov. 

Victor turned him under his arm again, this time pulling Yuuri close at the end of it. His arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist, his mouth by Yuuri’s ear. “How’s my dad dancing?” he chuckled without stopping.

Yuuri couldn't help but grin. “Definitely needs to be more embarrassing. Your two step is too safe.”

“You prefer more hip action?” Victor winked.

Yuuri knew exactly where this was going to go. “No!” he said quickly, hands darting to Victor’s hips to hold them still. “Oh my God, no, please don’t. That would be… um…”

All of a sudden, Victor felt a lot closer.

He didn’t move his hands.

He should. He should take his hands away, take a step back, and put some distance between him and Victor before he got too lost, before he was drawn in all over again-

“I’m not married,” he blurted over the music, heart boxing against his ribcage.

Victor’s dancing stopped, frowning. “What?”

Yuuri’s mouth tasted like sandpaper, already regretting talking. He was going to dig himself his own grave. He was going to let Victor Nikiforov destroy his life all over again.

And the really crazy thing was that he didn’t care.

His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “I’m not married,” he said, feeling the weight in his chest lighten as he said it.  _ Hope _ . He shrugged stiffly. “I lied.”

Victor’s eyes widened a fraction. “Really?” He frowned deeper. “Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Victor…”

“Dating?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “ _ No _ .”

A grin slowly spread over Victor’s face. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Good. I’m glad to get you all to myself.”

Yuuri felt his insides turn to jelly. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Victor breathed. “Because now I can do this.”

Yuuri didn’t even blink before Victor’s hands closed on either side of his face and pulled him in for a soul-stealing kiss.

* * *

Yuuri wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute, he’d been talking, then he’d been kissing, then making out in the back of a taxi, and now somehow -  _ somehow _ \- he and Victor were staggering through Victor’s apartment, clothes shedding along the way, mouths glued together every step until Victor pushed Yuuri back and he bounced off a soft mattress, breathless and naked.

Above him, Victor peeled the last of his shirt off and threw it aside, gaze smouldering as he stared down at Yuuri.

Yuuri felt his insides flip in anticipation. 

He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t do this. He was drunk. Victor was drunk. It was a bad idea. It was their  _ first date _ !

But it was  _ Victor  _ and it just felt so right when he leaned down and pressed Yuuri into the mattress, the warmth of his skin against his, the way Yuuri’s body opened up so easily and they fit together just so, so right. Victor was surprisingly gentle, the pads of his fingers running tenderly over Yuuri’s eyelids as his hips rocked lazily, legs intertwined and hearts hammering so close it was impossible to tell one apart from the other.   
When Yuuri finally fell asleep in Victor’s arms, he felt satisfied in more ways than one. For the first time in years, he finally felt like he was where he belonged.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean wow that was one hell of a response against Victor, like damn... xD I did not intend this
> 
> Thanks for all the interest though! Hope you enjoy the continuation!

Yuuri woke up to a pounding headache and shouting.

He groaned as he picked his head up from the pillow - not his pillow, he noticed, the usual lumps and bumps missing, softer and more luxurious than he could ever afford for himself. His arms were wrapped underneath it, instantly regretting the decision to get up the second he was staring at the indentation from his head in the pillow. He wanted to go back to it…

… as it was, the noise made that impossible.

Yuuri rolled over to his back, sleepy eyes squinting to the door. It was shut, yet Yuuri could still hear the yelling voices as clear as day.

Slowly, the night before started to come back to him. He was in Victor’s room, he remembered, seeing the scattered remains of last night’s clothes discarded around the floor as he gingerly picked himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes wearily. He tripped over his jeans as he stumbled to the door, only pausing to pull on a pair of boxers as he went. He didn’t check whose they were.

They’d slept together. Yuuri remembered tangled of limbs, sweaty skin gliding over each other, sharing breaths and heartbeats into the early hours of the morning…

What time was it now?

Yuuri scanned around for his phone, knowing that there were probably a dozen missed calls from Phichit waiting for him. He hadn’t come home last night. 

Phichit hadn’t been wrong - it was never going to be _ just _ a date with Victor Nikiforov, his ex, the love of his life, the man who Yuuri was - if he was honest with himself - still in love with deep down… he should have known. He should have seen this coming a mile away.

As it was, he was too tired to feel ashamed, brain cells still sleepily clicking together as he gave up on his phone and turned to the racket outside the door instead.

He recognised Victor’s voice.

It had been a long time since he’d heard it shouting.

He cracked the bedroom door open, peeking his dishevelled head around into the living room. “Victor?”

It wasn’t what he expected.

To be honest, Yuuri wasn’t sure _ what _he’d been expecting - he was still half asleep! - but this… this was not it.

Victor was stood at the front door of the apartment in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare and his face red with anger. His knuckles were white around the door frame, eyes narrowed hostilely across the threshold.

On the other side was his wife.

_ Ex-wife _ , Yuuri quickly corrected himself. He’d recognised her anywhere _ . _

Dasha Lebedeva. Tall, blonde, beautiful … Yuuri recognised her from the wedding pictures in the magazines eight years ago. She hadn’t changed much, still model glamourous in her heels and designer blazer, diamond earrings sparkling from her earlobes. That was how she and Victor had met after all, modelling together, falling in love, falling out of a chapel just three months later with rings on their fingers…

Yuuri’s heart clenched on instinct seeing her. She was the one Yuuri had always envied, remembering how he’d cried himself to sleep when he’d seen the wedding spread in the magazines, how happy Victor had looked without him.

He looked far from happy now, rowing with his ex wife in the doorway of his apartment with his two young children sandwiched between them, their mother’s firm hands on their shoulders holding them in place. They didn’t seem bothered by the shouting. Yuuri’s heart wrenched - they must be used to it, he reasoned.

He didn’t know what they were screaming about, curses spewed and argument battled in brutal, quick-fire Russian that Yuuri didn’t have a hope of understanding.

He just read the language from Victor’s red face, tense shoulders, Dasha’s bright blue eyes now cold and hostile - terrible even, as they flickered over Victor’s shoulder to Yuuri across the apartment.

“Who the hell is that?!” she shrieked in English, eyes flashing wide with rage.

Yuuri’s blood ran cold.

_ Oh no. _

Suddenly, Yuuri realised that he wasn’t as hidden by the door as he’d thought, wandered forward in his curiosity - just a step!

But a step was enough.

He glanced down, remembering he was in nothing but his boxers. But it was worse than that - bruises and bite marks littered his collarbones and shoulders, love bites on his neck and fingerprints marked into his hips just above the waistband of his underwear. It was unmistakable where it had all come from.

Yuuri’s hands slapped over himself, glancing up in time to catch Victor’s eye for _ a heartbeat _ before he leapt back behind the door, slamming it shut behind him. He pressed his back against it, chest tighter than before.

The fighting didn’t stop.

_ “We’re not even divorced yet and you’re already-” _

Dasha didn’t finish, her point hammered home with a clank and a shout from Victor - her handbag, Yuuri guessed she’d hit him with, guilt churning in his gut.

Whatever Victor bit back, Yuuri didn’t catch as they slipped back into Russian, words lost to him -_ for the better _, he told himself, sucking a ragged breath and grabbing for his jeans on the bedroom floor. His hands felt shaky, fumbling to thumb the button in place as he pulled them up around his hips.

He slipped back outside again. 

Dasha’s eyes narrowed instantly. “You-”

Victor glanced back at Yuuri, hand outstretched. “Yuuri, wait-”

Yuuri clutched his phone in a death grip. “I’m sorry,” he said over the pair of them, face red and shame churning deep in his gut. His shoulders hunched, wishing he could disappear. He knew his shirt collar didn’t do enough to hide the hickeys on his neck…

Worst of all though were the children. Yuri stared at him with a small frown - clearly trying to remember why Yuuri looked familiar - whereas Yuuri could feel the taller dark haired child regarded him with an apathy that was just … bad. Like he knew who Yuuri was in this scene - like he _ knew _ \- but it didn’t surprise him. Yuuri couldn’t place it. All he knew was that it made him feel worse than he had ever felt in his entire life - worse than when Victor had broken up with him even.

He’d never been lower.

Tears stung in his eyes and he dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palms to try and distract himself, to hold himself together. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to be weak.

And he certainly didn’t want to show Victor how much he clearly still meant to him.

His mouth opened… but no more words came out. What could he say? He’d been caught by Victor’s ex-wife - though not so ex if what she’d said earlier was anything to go by! He’d helped Victor cheat on his wife. The mother of his children. Betrayed his family…

Yuuri could feel his hands shaking at his sides, could feel the lump of emotion tight in his throat. What had he done?

“Yuuri-”

Yuuri didn’t give Victor a chance to finish. The moment he saw Victor’s arm reach out to him, heard the pity in his voice-

He slipped out of Victor’s grasp, between Dasha and the doorframe, and ran from the apartment until he no longer recognised the streets around him.

* * *

“What the hell?!” Phichit burst the moment Yuuri told him back at the apartment, Yuuri curled up on the couch with a pillow hugged over his middle. His head lay in Phichit’s lap, his best friend carding his fingers comfortingly through Yuuri’s hair. Nobody said anything about the wet tear stains on the thighs of Phichit’s jeans. “I thought he said he was divorced!”

Yuuri blinked slowly, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

“He did...” 

Yuuri remembered he did. Victor had definitely said it, his ring missing, a sad smile on his face when it had come up... 

But-

_ “We’re not even divorced yet and you’re already-” _

Yuuri scrunched his eyes shut at the memory, Dasha’s voice ringing painfully clear through his head. He knew what he’d heard. They weren’t divorced.

They were still married.

Which made Victor a cheater and Yuuri the ‘other woman’, as the phrase went. And in front of Victor’s children too…

It wasn’t what Yuuri had wanted.

He’d been lucky to catch Phichit when he’d gotten home. Seung-gil had already left for work - Yuuri still sharing an apartment with the happy couple even after all these years - but Phichit had been just about to leave the door when Yuuri had tumbled in, breathing hard and eyes stinging. He’d been crying on his way home. Of course, he’d been crying…

Phichit had made him tea, wrapped them in a blanket, called in a favour from work, and just… _ been there _ for Yuuri.

He really did have the best best-friend.

“Maybe he wanted to get you back the whole time?” Phichit mused aloud, fingers still moving gently through Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri flinched at the words though.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be Victor’s second choice, his dirty little secret, to have to sneak around behind his _ wife’s _back… he deserved better than that.

He sucked in a shuddering breath at the thought, curling his fingers together into a fist. His fingernails dug into his palms again, the sharp pin pricks of pain distracting him from the wet sting in the corners of his eyes. His cheeks hurt from crying earlier. He couldn’t cry anymore. Victor Nikiforov didn’t deserve any more tears from him. He’d lied, led him on, betrayed him… Yuuri’s chest ached bone deep, pressing his eyes tight shut. He wouldn’t cry. He’d cried enough for Victor Nikiforov to last a lifetime.

And the worst part was that he still wanted to forgive him.

He still wanted to hold Victor, to kiss him, to fall into bed with him the way he had last night… only to wake up with glittering blue eyes and sleepy smiles instead of screaming. He still wanted that. He wanted it so badly.

But he couldn’t.

He _ couldn’t. _

He couldn’t let Victor Nikiforov ruin his life all over again, like he didn’t matter. He’d worked too hard to make a life for himself after theirs had collapsed, running his parents’ new cafe in America, finishing his degree, finding the strength to get up and face the day, each day, every day, knowing that he may never see Victor Nikiforov again and that the man he had once dreamed of spending the rest of his life with probably didn’t even remember that he existed…

It had taken time - years! Endless tears and heartache while Victor lived out his extravagant life in the tabloids. But he’d finally found his peace.

At least, until last night.

Now it was all ruined again.

Across the couch, his phone buzzed. Phichit and Yuuri both turned to it at the same time, both freezing in the same moment. Phichit’s fingers paused in Yuuri’s hair. 

They both knew who it was.

After a tense minute, Phichit picked up the phone from the end of the couch, handing it slowly to Yuuri. His eyes glanced at the screen as he did so – the way his eyebrows shot into his hairline and his mouth thinned told Yuuri that he wasn’t impressed with whatever he’d seen.

Yuuri swallowed thickly, unlocking the phone… and read.

_ Victor: I’m sorry _

It was brief, direct… tears welled in Yuuri’s eyes, his fingers tightening painfully around the phone as he read.

It wasn’t enough.

Another text buzzed through.

_ Victor: Can I call you? _

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat, jolting upright in Phichit’s lap in alarm. His eyes flashed wide with panic. He couldn’t do that - he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully face the consequences of what had happened just yet. Not now. Not-

The phone starting ringing anyway.

Yuuri glanced up to Phichit, eyes wide, and terrified, and-

Phichit shrugged softly, carefully untangling himself from underneath Yuuri. “Gotta face it sooner or later…” he said quietly, pressing one last encouraging squeeze to Yuuri’s shoulder and mouth tweaked in a weak smile.

Yuuri felt the panic bubbling up in his throat as the door carefully closed behind Phichit, sealing him alone in their small living room with nothing but himself and a ringing phone with Victor Nikiforov on the other end of the line. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready. He simply couldn’t, feeling his stomach churn as he pushed himself to sit upright, fingers numb around the phone.

He knew what Victor could be like – all smooth words and velvet charm – the way he had been to win Yuuri over in the first place last night! He hadn’t stood a chance against resisting him then. He couldn’t get dragged into this again. Phichit had been right - meeting Victor Nikiforov again had been a mistake.

Yuuri knew what he _ should _ say when he answered the phone.

But what his heart _ wanted _ to say – desperate to cling to Victor Nikiforov and slim chance of reclaiming that old, perfect life with him – was very different…

He sat up straight, swallowing the lump in his throat and fingers digging into the couch beneath his hips to anchor him. The dialling screen on his phone glared at him, mocking him.

He desperately didn’t want to answer it…

He gathered his courage and pressed the ‘accept’ button anyway.

His heart was in his mouth as he held the phone up, hearing his voice quake slightly. He hoped Victor couldn’t tell. “H-hello?”

_ “Yuuri! Oh God - I’m _ so _ sorry, Yuuri _ ,” Victor spilled down the line, voice sounding frantic. Yuuri blinked in shock, spine snapping straight. “ _ Dasha was supposed to have the kids until midday but she brought them back early. I didn’t know until she just showed up...” _

Yuuri swallowed thickly. _ That _ was fine. _ That _, he understood. Yuuri didn’t care about that though… 

“You’re not divorced.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Silence hung thick between them, each second cracking at Yuuri’s composure. It told him all that he needed to know. His lip quivered, eyes burning again. _ He couldn’t cry, _ he told himself. _ He couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t, could not- _

Down the line, Victor finally sighed. Yuuri could imagine the way his head bowed, fingers running through his hair, like they always used to… 

“_ All there is to do is to sign the papers, Yuuri. _..” 

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut, heart burning in his chest. Traitorous tears pinched out of the corners of his eyes, hearing the quiet sob to his voice when he sucked in his next shaky breath. There was no way Victor hadn’t heard that.

“You’re still technically married,” Yuuri gasped, the air feeling thin in his chest. “A-and you and I… we-” 

He couldn’t even say it, teeth snagging on his bottom lip to hold the words captive. He wasn’t sure he could bear hearing them aloud, hearing what Victor had made of them. As the tears started to run thick and wet down his cheeks, he knew for certain he couldn’t. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. The Victor that Yuuri had once known would never have done this to him, would never have hidden the truth…

_ “I’m sorry.” _

Yuuri took a deep breath, ragged down his throat. Maybe Victor hadn’t changed as much as he’d first thought...

He couldn’t do this again.

“Me too.”

He hung up before Victor could say anything else, before he could talk him out of it – before he could talk _ himself _out of it. He deserved better than this, he told himself, feeling the floodgates crash and waves and waves of tears cascading down his face as he dropped the phone - not caring where it fell - misery weighing hot and heavy in his gut. 

He found Phichit waiting in his room, perched patiently on the edge of the bed. He looked up as Yuuri walked in. Yuuri dissolved into sobs the second their eyes met, knowing that Phichit would _ know _ because he was the one who had always told him that Yuuri deserved better. He’d always known how this whole mess would end. Yuuri just wished he’d listened to him sooner.

He dropped down to his knees by the edge of the bed, Phichit slipping off the edge to meet him as he crumpled. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him together as he cried, and cried, and cried. 

He was heart broken by Victor Nikiforov again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out, I'm dumb.
> 
> Yeah, I know, not a big news flash because anybody who knows me knows I'm the biggest dumbass on the planet.
> 
> But really, I am dumb.
> 
> All these comments saying like 'don't leave it there' and ' we need a second chapter' and my dumb self be staring like 'yo, what they talking abo-'
> 
> oh.
> 
> that's what they talking about.
> 
> my stupid ass can't read the difference between multiple chapters and a series xD
> 
> Yes, I ticked the wrong box and ticked for series instead of that it has multiple chapters. I have now fixed this. It's not two chapters. It will go on ... and on... until I figure out where the heck this plot is going. 
> 
> So for those wanting a quick read, my bad, bro. I messed up.
> 
> Everybody else... *hides* i hope you still like it, please don't hate me

Yuuri blocked his number.

It had taken a night of crying, two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s, and a day snuggled up in blankets and pajamas in self pity… but he finally blocked Victor's number.

It had been ten years in the making. He hadn’t even blocked him when they’d first broken up - a part of him had been so desperate to hope that Victor would come back to him once the storm had blown over, that he’d text him when the separation got too much, that he’d plead for Yuuri to take him back and forgive his mistake … he’d never called. But a little part of Yuuri had never been willing to accept it.

Now - ten years older - he finally decided. 

He couldn’t have Victor Nikiforov in his life.

The man was poison. Thrilling and beautiful, talented and exciting - but dangerous. Chaos followed him, Victor changing his mind and tastes as quickly as the tide…

… and Yuuri was too soft-hearted to be able to bear it when he did.

He had to walk away.

He blocked Victor’s number with a sense of resignation, sighing in bitter defeat as he slipped the phone away, biting back the tears. They’d had their shot, after all. It hadn’t worked then - it wouldn’t work now.

It was over.

_ It was fine _ , he told himself as he scrubbed viciously at the cafe counter on a Monday morning a month later, wiping the same spot over and over again until he noticed the glaze start to dull under his cloth. His jaw clenched hard, nerves jumping even more on edge.  _ It was fine, _ he told himself again. He didn’t need Victor. He didn’t need the table top varnish to be perfect. He didn’t need anything.

It had been a hard month.

Even after he’d blocked Victor’s number, a small part of him had half hoped that wouldn’t have stopped him. He’d half expected Victor to show up at his door when Yuuri didn’t answer the phone and had been more than half devastated when he hadn’t. 

He didn’t hear anything.

There were no knocks on his door, no notes slipped through his letterbox, no silver haired figure stopping Phichit on the way to work to beg his help to get Yuuri to talk to him again…

He guessed that Victor really didn’t care after all.

He’d probably just wanted some fun, Yuuri thought sadly to himself as he made an elderly couple a pair of lattes. Just a night of drinking while the kids were off his hands and sex with a willing ex to get back at his wife. For what, Yuuri didn’t know - but remembering their doorstep row when he’d left Victor’s apartment, it was clear that husband and wife were not parting on amicable terms. 

At first, Yuuri had been bitter. 

Then, he’d been sad.

Then - after four weeks of nothing - he’d finally accepted that it was really finished. Victor wasn’t interested in him. If he had been, he’d have ran after Yuuri down that street with reckless abandon the same way he’d flown across continents ten years ago for a YouTube video. If it mattered, Victor found a way.

Yuuri guessed he didn’t matter after all.

_ It was fine _ , he told himself again for the millionth time that month, trying to keep busy, trying to focus on something else - anything else! Anythi-

The cafe’s bell rang. 

Yuuri had barely lifted his head when a large cream file slapped down on the counter, the rush of air as it  _ thwacked  _ down making his eyes water.

“There!” an all too familiar voice declared.

Yuuri blinked his vision clear, heart sinking bitterly in his chest.  _ Not now _ , he willed, groaning in his head and feeling his chest tear between regret and longing - not now, not when he was so close to coping without  _ him… _

Victor Nikiforov leaned over the counter, hands braced firmly on the tabletop and burning blue eyes searing a hole into Yuuri’s soul.

It was inescapable.

Yuuri couldn’t do anything but blink, shocked. His mouth hung open gormlessly.

“Signed, sealed, divorced,” Victor went on, voice clipped. His head jerked down to the file, a slither of white paper slipping out of the corner. It couldn’t possibly be what he was implying it was, Yuuri thought with disbelief, head starting to shake. “Go on a date with me.” 

Yuuri’s brain couldn’t keep up. 

His eyes snapped back up to Victor’s, blinking dumbly. “W-what?” 

“A date,” Victor repeated, gaze never wavering. “With me.”

_ This couldn’t be happening. _

“Y-you got divorced today…”

He barely kept the shocked horror out of his voice. Victor was dressed in a smart suit, beige trenchcoat tossed over the counter and Yuuri vaguely remembered hearing the clunk of a briefcase hitting the floor before it’s owner had stolen his attention. Had Victor come straight from court? Straight from divorced … to asking Yuuri out on a date?

Surely even Victor Nikiforov couldn’t be that bold...

Unfortunately though, he was.

Victor spread his arms, expression steeled in determination. “Single man,” he declared, eyes flashing a touch lighter and mouth twitching in a stiff smile.  _ He was trying to be smooth _ , Yuuri thought. It wasn’t working... “Back on the market. I’m all yours.”

Ten years ago, Yuuri would have been sobbing with relief, on his knees with absolute gratitude at the chance to have him back …

Yuuri wasn’t that man anymore.

He pressed his mouth shut, swallowing the lump in his throat. His gaze dropped from Victor’s, finding an interesting chip on the counter edge. “Victor…”

He had to say no.

_ It was over,  _ Yuuri reminded himself, gathering his will. There was no future for them. Victor had made his choice - and more than once, it hadn’t been Yuuri. 

Phichit would kill him. Mari would kill him. He would never hear the end of it if he came back  _ yet again _ brokenhearted by Victor Nikiforov! How many times would they let him cry to them about him making the same mistakes before they got bored of it? Victor could cost him his best friend and his sister, and for what? A fling. Even Victor Nikiforov wasn’t worth that.

Yuuri could feel it was a bad idea.

He should say no…

He glanced up to Victor’s crystal blue eyes, glittering in the cafe lights and … tired. So very tired, the eyes of a broken man. Yuuri wasn’t sure exactly how much that divorce must have set Victor back, but from what he’d seen of Dasha, she was tenacious. She wouldn’t let him off easily.

_ It was none of his business _ , Yuuri tried to tell himself, trying to ignore the vulnerable spike through Victor’s gaze.

His heart twanged traitorously.

He said yes anyway.

* * *

This time, he didn’t tell Phichit about the date with Victor. Instead, he took a spare shirt into work with him, got changed in the staff bathroom, and had Victor pick him up from straight outside the cafe after he’d finished locking up. He felt modestly decent, in a navy sweater over a white spotted shirt, his usual faded jeans rolled up at the cuffs. He wasn’t making too much effort for Victor. It might not be worth it.

He forced himself to curb his expectations as Victor’s car - a grey people carrier instead of the once flamboyant pink Ferrari - came into view down the road, slowing as it approached. It wasn’t a date. He wasn’t going to get excited.

His heart still hurt from their last not-date after all, the sting of the morning-after all too fresh. Yuuri wasn’t under any illusion this time - Victor Nikiforov didn’t really care about him.

And if he did, he had a lot to prove.

He wasn’t going to win Yuuri’s trust back in one night.

There were no butterflies this time as Yuuri caught sight of Victor through the car window, no greeting smile as he opened the car door and slipped into the passenger seat. He kept his expression blank, a poker face. 

“Hi,” Victor smiled stiffly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe he’d finally understood just how badly he’d screwed things up…

Yuuri didn’t even bother smiling. It still hurt to look at him. “Hi.”

He yanked the car door shut a little too firmly, the blunt thud sharp. Victor’s knuckles were white around the wheel as he started up the engine again, pulling away from the curb. For a moment, neither of them said anything, silence brittle, and awkward, and-

“Do you…” Yuuri started, heart twisting in his chest as he forced the words out. “Do you want to talk about …  _ it?” _

_ The divorce. _

It had been four days since Victor had slapped the divorce papers down on the cafe counter, demanding his second chance - he’d needed time to arrange childcare, he’d said. He hadn’t mentioned Dasha. 

Yuuri didn’t want to hear about it. He didn’t want to know a thing, didn’t want to hear the evidence of how Victor had once loved another more than him even if that relationship was now rubble at his feet, didn’t want to think about it - certainly didn’t want to  _ comfort _ Victor over it! He wasn’t sure what made him ask. Politeness, he supposed, ingrained too deep in his bones to truly set aside. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for being taken out on a date by a divorced ex. He wasn’t sure there was one.

Yuuri glanced at Victor out of the corner of his eye. He noticed the way Victor’s jaw clenched slightly.

“No.”

Yuuri wasn’t going to settle for that though. “So we’re just going to … pretend it isn’t happening?”

It was divorce - it wasn’t just some breakup with a high school crush! His and Yuuri’s breakup had been hard to deal with - breaking up from a wife surely had to be harder! Plus dealing with court dates, and lawyers, and division of assets, not to mention the child custody discussions that had to be going on-

“Exactly.”

Yuuri turned his head back front, watching the road instead. He didn’t want to talk about  _ things _ but at the same time, he knew better than most that ignoring problems didn’t make them go away.

They had never quite gotten to understand that when they’d been a couple...

“Where are we going?” he asked instead, changing the subject. They hadn’t discussed what they’d do and frankly, Yuuri hadn’t wanted to be the one making decisions. He didn’t know what this even was.

Beside him, Victor’s lips quirked. “What if I said we were going ice skating?”

Yuuri’s head turned so fast his neck clicked. 

“ _ No _ !” 

He felt his face pale, blood draining in horror. He couldn’t ice skate with Victor. It was too much, too  _ painful _ , he simply couldn’t-

Victor chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry,” he said, eyes trained on the road ahead. “We’re not skating. Maybe next time...”

Yuuri sank back into his seat, not replying.

* * *

Victor pulled up outside of a restaurant, nice looking from the outside, French if Yuuri wasn’t mistaken - more like the Victor he had once known. This would have been a date they could have gone on before…  _ everything. _

Yuuri didn’t say anything as Victor handed his car keys to the valet, as Victor said something in quiet French to the head waiter and they were shown to their table. He ordered his food quickly, not fully knowing what exactly he’d asked for but determined to not have to ask Victor to translate for him. He didn’t want his help.

“When I mentioned skating in the car…” Victor finally broke the silence, folding his fingers together and bracing his elbows on the table. Keen blue eyes watched Yuuri over his knuckles. “You didn’t …you …” Victor’s eyes darted down for a moment, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, sounding slightly more high pitched than before. He sounded nervous. It was weird hearing him nervous... “You don’t like skating anymore?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, gut turning. His hands clenched tight under the table. “I haven’t skated in eight years.”

“Why?”

Yuuri blinked fast, jaw clenching. “I think you know why.”

His fork poked at his salad when it came, his appetite already dwindling. He could feel Victor watching him across the table, could feel the tension rolling off of him no matter how calm a face he put on it. It was going to be a long dinner… 

He cleared his throat stiffly. “D-do your kids skate?” 

Talking about his kids had loosened Victor up last time, helped him relax. There was no reason to believe it wouldn’t work again, even if it did hurt to hear.

Victor’s lips flickered sadly. “Not yet.” He’d hardly touched his food either. “Dasha hadn’t wanted them to. She never really gave a good reason but, uh... I’m sure it was to do with punishing me somehow. She was like that towards the end...”

Yuuri pursed his lips shut. 

He glanced down at his barely eaten meal, flickering a small smile when the waiter took the plate away. 

Victor leaned forward on his elbows once he was gone, clasping his hands together on the table. “But Yuuri,” he said, drawing Yuuri’s gaze back up to him. “ _ Why _ are you working in a  _ cafe _ ?”

A nerve jumped in Yuuri’s jaw. “There’s nothing wrong with my cafe.”

“But you’re  _ better _ than that-”

Yuuri slapped a hand on the table, making the water in his glass tremble. “ _ You’re not my coach anymore!” _ he hissed, voice seething. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

It wasn’t fair. Victor wasn’t allowed to just go back and pretend like everything was like it had been before. It wasn’t. It never would be. They weren’t coach and student. They weren’t even friends. It was a miracle they were even on speaking terms. If Phichit had his way, Yuuri would never see Victor again. Victor didn’t get to come in on his saving grace and try and dictate Yuuri’s life again. It wouldn’t work like that.

It hadn’t before...

Victor just stared at him across the table, wide eyed and pale.

Suddenly, Yuuri realised that Victor wasn’t the only one staring at him. Stray eyes across the restaurant had wandered at his raised voice, curious, disapproving… Yuuri flushed and sat back in his seat, sliding his hands off the table top. He uncurled them in his lap, smoothing his fingers over his thighs - when had they curled into fists?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyeing the corner of his napkin. “Not everyone is like you,” he clarified quietly. “We’re not all talented at everything. Some of us just …  _ can’t.” _

He’d wanted to use his degree after he’d retired from skating. He’d worked hard for it, studying and skating being the toughest years of his life. But when he retired, when he and Victor broke up, when he crumbled into a million pieces as he’d fled back to his parents’ onsen heartbroken… he didn’t feel anything like the man who had earned that degree. He didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel confident. He felt like a shadow, ghosting through every day. And if he tried to use his degree and he failed… Yuuri wasn’t sure he could take another downfall. He really couldn’t.

But he couldn’t tell Victor any of that. He didn’t want Victor to know what happened to him, not like that.

Across the table, Victor just stared.

Yuuri didn’t look up from his cheesecake to see it for himself but he could  _ feel _ it, glaringly obvious and intense, feeling it scorch his skin as it raked over him-

“I don’t feel like much of a designer.”

Yuuri snapped his eyes up at that.

Victor was talking to his dessert. “I haven’t had an idea in weeks,” he went on quietly. His eyes looked watery. “Lately, I just,” his gaze flickered up, glittering. “ _ Can’t.” _

Yuuri didn’t have much sympathy. “You’ll think of something. You’re Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor’s lips flickered in the corners.

“And you’re Yuuri Katsuki.”

“No, I’m just-”

“What?”

“I’m just… “

_ Nothing. _

He wasn’t brave enough to say it outloud.

He cleared his throat again, desperate to shift the attention away from himself. He was starting to crack - he didn’t want to let Victor see him shatter. “Y-you must have ideas,” he forced out. “Last year it was metallics. What is it this year?”

Victor blinked at him for a moment too long. Then his lips curled into a predatory smile. “You follow my fashion?”

Yuuri’s face flushed red.

_ Shit. _

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Victor...”

“You seem to know a lot…”

“Shut up.”

Yuuri snapped his arms across his chest, folding them tightly and looking  _ absolutely  _ anywhere but at Victor. He could feel the heat on his face, betraying him. He was so stupid…

Victor chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair too. “Thank you,” he said, voice warm. “That means a lot to me. I wasn’t lying though - I really don’t have any ideas this season. It’s been a disaster.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t believe you,” he bit out.

For a moment, Victor didn’t say anything. The silence hung between them, thick and palpable, wearing them both down until one finally cracked-

“I can show you.”

* * *

It was raining when Victor pulled into the underground parking for his studio, Yuuri watching the raindrops slide down the window pane and trying to ignore the mad thump of his heart in his chest. He didn’t mean to challenge him like that. He hadn’t meant to push. He didn’t need to see.

But now, Victor needed to show him.

Yuuri was nervous as Victor led him into the elevator, only too aware of the small space as the doors slid shut and he was locked in with Victor.

Surely, Victor would be able to hear the way his heart was racing. Surely, he would be able to feel the heat reeling off Yuuri’s face. He would if he kissed him, Yuuri couldn’t help but think, gasping at the runaway thought. If Victor kissed him, pressed him against the wall of the elevator, if Yuuri hitched his thigh up around his hip, he’d be able to feel  _ everything _ -

The elevator dinged.

Victor’s eyes were mysterious as they followed him out, a knowing look in his gaze that made Yuuri’s skin shift uncomfortably. When Victor gently took his hand, it only got worse.

“This way,” he said softly.

Yuuri didn’t say anything as Victor led him down the hallway, neat and blank - cold almost, so lacking in colour, decoration, in  _ feeling…  _ even the door that Victor stopped at was blank, save for the gold plaque across the middle with his name on it. It surprised him for something as creative as a designing studio. He would have thought there would be… more.

Victor flashed a nervous smile over his shoulder before he opened the door, hand poised on the handle. “Ready?”

_ No. _

Yuuri forced himself to nod anyway.

The door opened, Victor pulled Yuuri inside, Yuuri stumbling on his jelly legs like a newborn colt and he was… disappointed.

Like Victor had said, there was nothing.

Well, nothing completed.

There were rolls of fabric everywhere in every colour - yellow tartan, powder blue wool, slithering silky silver - hanging in curtains down the walls, papers pinned to them with sketches and accessories tied around them in places. The mannequins were practically naked, dotted around the room with one or two items adorning them. Yuuri wondered closer to one with black leather around it’s wrists… and nothing else.

It was like Victor said - there was nothing.

“I tried to do something with leather cuffs,” Victor explained as Yuuri ran a finger down the soft leather around the mannequin’s wrist. “But it just… didn't work.”

Yuuri could see that.

Although, he wouldn’t say that Victor had no ideas. There were ideas everywhere, in the colours, in the drapes, in little touches… but they were all separate. None of them came together. None of them worked. 

Yuuri’s finger lingered on the leather cuff, a small smile flickering over his lips. “They’d look good on you.”

Victor always had a way of making everything look good.

Especially, as he pulled his tie loose out of the corner of Yuuri’s eye, popping open the top button of his shirt. Yuuri tried to ignore the blush darkening his cheeks as his eyes followed the creamy white skin that was slowly exposed to him, inch by tantalising inch. He kept his eyes low as Victor stepped closer, hand covering his own on the mannequin.

Victor unlaced the cuff, sliding it free. His fingers curled around Yuuri’s hand, holding it up. 

“No,” he murmured as he worked, eyes sharp and focused, yet dreamy at the same time. His fingers tightened the laces, pulling them tight around Yuuri’s wrist, leaving a slither of his jumper on the other side to hang over his hand. When his eyes glanced back up to Yuuri’s, they were electric. “They’d look better on you.”

Yuuri felt his heart skip a beat, his entire being trapped in that one inch of contact where Victor’s hand lingered over his, warm skin touching warm skin and Victor’s gaze swimming in his own-

“Stay still.”

It took Yuuri an extra second to understand the words, too lost in the curve of Victor’s mouth to get them immediately. When he did, he flushed again. What was wrong with him?

He felt a shiver jolt through him as Victor stepped away and severed the contact, striding purposefully across the room to a pile of fabric. Yuuri took the moment to catch his breath, still acutely aware of the leather strapped intimately around his wrist and the way it had felt to have Victor’s eyes on him like that-

“Is blue still your favourite colour?”

Yuuri snapped his head round at Victor’s question. Victor had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, strong forearms half buried in the mound of materials while he glanced back over his shoulder. Yuuri’s mouth watered.  _ God, get a grip- _

“Y-yeah,” he stammered.

He was an idiot, an absolute idiot. Phichit was right. He couldn’t be trusted with this, with anything to do with Victor, if even his forearms were getting him hot-

Victor was back a second later, the powder blue wool in his hands. He held it up across Yuuri’s collarbones, Yuuri ducking his head down to look. It felt soft on the underside of his chin, delicate and expensive.

“Head up,” Victor breathed softly.

Yuuri snapped his eyes frontways again, finding an annoyingly enticing spot where Victor’s shirt collar slipped haphazardly to the side and flaunted his own delicate collarbones. Yuuri gulped, watching the way Victor’s eyes followed the movement of his throat.

It was only then that he realised just how close they were. He could feel the warmth of Victor’s fingers through the wool, so tantalisingly close to his own skin yet so delicately parted. He could feel Victor’s breath wash over his lips. He could see the subtle change in colour as ideas popped off behind Victor’s eyes, inspiration stirring his gaze, bringing a blush to his pale cheeks and lips ghosting apart in wonder…

He gave a full body shudder as Victor’s fingers ran delicately down the side of his cheek, touch so soft Yuuri half wondered if he’d dreamt it. He didn’t dare turn his head to check. He was too in love with the moment.

He wanted Victor to kiss him.

Yuuri could practically taste him, lips millimeters away. He could close the distance if he wanted to, seal the deal with a forbidden kiss…

“Beautiful,” Victor breathed, eyes hooded and so, so close…

Yuuri’s lips parted, his heart screaming at him to close the gap between them while his brain yelled to stop. He scrambled for something to say, something to carry to the moment. He had to say something. Victor was so close - too close - and he liked it, and he had to say  _ something! _

“I…” he started, thoughts failing him. His heart ached with longing. “I-it’s getting late…”

Victor didn’t pull away.

“Yes,” he agreed, voice barely more than a whisper. Yuuri’s eyelashes fluttered as he tasted the lingering wine on Victor’s breath from dinner. He could count Victor’s eyelashes they were so close. “It is…”

It was a bad idea to have come here.

Yuuri should have known better. Last time he’d allowed himself out with Victor Nikiforov, alone, and close, and in romantic moonlight, he’d woken up in his bed the next morning.

He couldn’t do that again.

He  _ couldn’t… _

But he so badly wanted to.

Perhaps Victor had the same thought - one blink of those brilliant crystal eyes and they seemed to sharpen, blinking wide and a gasp sucking through those perfect lips. They hovered open for a moment, searching for words. His hand brushed away from Yuuri’s cheek, leaving Yuuri feeling cold and lonely without the touch.

Victor stepped back, gaze falling.

Yuuri felt his heart fall with it.

“I should take you home,” Victor said, running a hand through his hair and nimbly picking the top button of his shirt back together again. 

Yuuri let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. His heart was hammering in his chest, feeling his fingertips tingle. He’d been so close - so close to throwing his pride and dignity to the wind and kissing Victor, so close to making the same mistake over and over again… but he’d never felt so alive as he had done in that moment, dancing on the precipice like that with Victor’s lips a millimeter away from his own.

He was a fool.

The shame burned through him. As Victor freed him from the leather cuff, as they silently got back into Victor’s car, as Yuuri’s apartment block loomed ahead of them and still there was nothing but sticky, awkward silence between them. Victor pulled his car up to the curb and killed the engine. 

Yuuri wasn’t brave enough to look up when it went quiet, not sure he was ready to face whatever expression was going to meet him across the car.

Rejection?

Adoration?

Longing?

They were all terrifying, all in different ways. They would all be Yuuri’s downfall, exciting, dangerous, as exhilarating as Victor’s precise tantalising fingertips had been back in the studio-

The car door opened and Yuuri flinched.

Victor held it for him.

Yuuri hadn’t even notice Victor get out of the driver’s side…

His flush returned as he slipped out, avoiding Victor’s eye as he trailed behind him to the door. Yuuri was glad that he had. He must have just minutes left, maybe even seconds - such short, precious time before Victor slipped away out of his life again. Forever? Maybe. Would Victor  _ want  _ to see him again after such an awkward date?

It had been terrible. Terrible but brilliant, another layer of the mysterious Victor Nikiforov scratched away from the surface.

Yuuri had once been ready to spend the rest of his life chipping away at those layers…

Did he still want that?

_ Maybe. _

His mouth was dry as he put the key in the door lock, turning it until it clicked and hoping Victor didn’t notice the way he tried to draw it out, fingers moving slow, careful, precise … until it was all over and there was nothing left.

He didn’t want it to be over. 

“D-do you want to come in?” Yuuri heard himself ask, mentally kicking himself. Phichit was going to kill him. “We have coffee - o-or maybe something stronger?”

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

He was never ready to say goodbye…

Surprise flittered over Victor’s face, eyes widening, lips ghosting apart… then after a sharp inhale, he cleared his throat softly. “I don’t think I should.”

Yuuri felt each word like a punch to the gut.

“I-I want to!” Victor hurried to fill in when he saw Yuuri’s face, eyes flashing with panic. “Believe me, I  _ really _ want to, but I…” he sighed, running his hands through his hair. In the faint street lights, Yuuri thought he saw Victor’s cheeks blush. “I don’t want to ruin this ... again. I know I won’t get another chance.”

_ Wrong. _

Yuuri hated himself to admit it, but the way Victor was behaving now - all coy and gentlemanly, almost shy! - Yuuri would give him all the chances in the world, forgive him again and again-

“But - one thing…”

Victor glanced up, eyes glittering and vulnerable. Yuuri watched him suck in his next breath, gaze instinctively drawn to his mouth.

“Could I … could I kiss you?”

Yuuri’s insides turned to jelly.

It took everything in him to keep his knees from buckling in that moment, fingers clenching nervously, trying his absolute best to not show his complete and utter  _ panic  _ on his face …

There was only ever going to be one answer though. 

His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, feeling his stomach flip in anticipation. “Y-yeah…”

Relief washed over Victor’s face, smoothing out the light crinkles creasing his brow.

Yuuri felt himself shaking as Victor stepped closer, gaze holding Yuuri’s and hands coming up to cup the sides of his jaw tenderly. Yuuri gasped at the warmth of Victor’s palms cradling his jaw, tasting Victor’s breath on his inhale, heart skipping a traitorous beat as Victor’s eyelashes fluttered and his face dipper down-

His lips grazed over Yuuri’s feather soft and fleeting, so familiar yet so alien at the same time. He wasn’t sure Victor had ever kissed him quite like that, like he was so delicate, like he was so precious …

He felt himself lean forward as Victor stepped away, chasing the warmth of his hands and the taste of his lips. 

“Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor smiled, reaching up to brush Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes.

Yuuri sucked in a shuddering breath.

It wasn’t enough to calm his rampant heart as Victor flashed him one last bright eyed smile before he dug his hands in his pockets and turned away, back to his car. Yuuri didn’t move. He watched every step, waiting - hoping! - that Victor would turn around again, glance back one last time…

The breath punched out of him when Victor’s car door just slammed shut though, the engine quietly roaring to life. Yuuri would have been disappointed at not getting his last glance - if he wasn’t so ashamed of himself.

It took Victor pulling away from the curb for Yuuri to come to his senses, wrench the key in the lock and slam the door behind him.

He pressed his back against it, fingers diving through his hair.

What was  _ wrong  _ with him?

He was lost.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri wished he could say it had ended there, that he’d shut the door on that painfully nice date with Victor, slipped his old ring off once and for all and had never spoken to the man ever again…

… as it was, Yuuri was weak.

And that was how he found himself illuminated by the glow of his phone at 3am in the morning, grinning madly to himself every time a new message buzzed through until his cheeks ached. Even then, he didn’t stop smiling.

_ Victor: You should really go to sleep _

_ Yuuri: So should you _

_ Victor: Yura’s still awake (( _

_ Victor: He gets this earache that seems to get worse at night. It’s been so hard putting him to bed the last few months _

_ Victor: He cries so much (( _

Yuuri knew he should feel bad for the kid, sad that the boy was hurt - and he was, he wasn’t a monster - but at the same time, he couldn’t help but picture Victor in bed with an arm curled protectively around his small son, strong and dependable, and Yuuri felt his insides melt a little bit more. The more he knew about what Victor was like around his kids, the more he realised just how much fatherhood suited him.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri hadn’t noticed his door crack open, hadn’t noticed the thin slither of light creep across his bedroom floor from the hallway until the voice cracked through the silence. A dark eyed Phichit glared at him from the doorway, hair wild and dishevelled. 

“Yuuri,” he squinted across the room, eyes taking a moment to focus. “Are you still awake?”

Yuuri cringed, hoping it wasn’t noticeable in the dark. “Um, yeah, a little…”

“What’s with all the giggling?”

Yuuri blinked. “I… I was giggling?”

He didn’t remember giggling.

“Yeah, we can hear you in the other room.” Phichit shifted his weight to his other leg, dragging out the motion and flopping his head to the side. “Don’t you have a shift in the morning?”

“Um, maybe.”

Yuuri really hadn’t thought about that for the last … how long had it been? Four hours? Longer? He’d lost count. He wondered if Victor would be tired at work the next day thinking about their text chats too....

In the doorway, Phichit stiffened. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Yuuri tensed in bed, watching the cogs turn behind Phichit’s sleepy eyes.

It wasn’t hard to work out, and Phichit knew him better than anybody. He could easily connect the dots, figure it out ...

... but then his mouth opened with a yawn and sleep washed over his gaze again, winning over. 

“Whatever,” he just waved off, head drooping. “Just … keep it down, yeah?”

Yuuri just nodded as Phichit tugged his door shut again, throat too tight to answer and the lump stuck their choking. 

He didn’t like keeping secrets from Phichit. He wished he could tell him, he just … he already knew how it would work. Phichit wouldn’t like it. Wouldn’t like Victor. Yuuri would get a lecture, feel about an inch tall as he was reminded about what had happened _ last time _ , nevermind the fact that his heart felt so full _ now _it felt like it was ready to burst-

He glanced down at his phone again, unable to resist investigating the series of vibrations that had gone off while Phichit had interrupted them.

_ Victor: You’re lucky you don’t have this problem _

_ Victor: Kids, I mean _

_ Victor: Not that they’re a bad thing _

_ Victor: That came out wrong _

_ Victor: Too much? _

_ Victor: Yuuri? _

_ Victor: Are you mad? _

_ Victor: I’m sorry ( _

_ One missed call from Victor _

Yuuri sucked in a breath, heart swelling in his chest a little bit more with every message that he read. It was dangerous how much he felt for this man.

_ Yuuri: Sorry _

_ Yuuri: Phichit came in _

_ Yuuri: I should sleep _

He couldn’t deny the stab of disappointment he felt as he pressed send on the last message.

Or the skip of his heart as Victor sent back a flurry of hearts.

_ Victor: okay, I understand )) _

_ Victor <3 <3 <3 _

_ Victor: Sleep well <3 Sweet dreams <3 _

Yuuri fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

* * *

A week later, they went on another date. Nothing fancy. Just a walk through the park, crisp, colourful leaves falling around them and just enough of a chill in the air to have an excuse to walk a little closer than they probably should.

Fifteen minutes in, Yuuri slipped his hand slyly into Victor’s.

Victor didn’t pull away.

They didn’t let go for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Yuuri should have known the thing that would trip him up with Phichit - Instagram.

At the time, he’d thought nothing of it. 

He’d been on a cute, coffee date with Victor, he’d liked the pattern of the cinnamon on the warming chai latte he’d ordered and had snapped a picture, picking a quick filter and posting on Instagram before he could think better of it, knowing that he’d already gone a long time without updating his profile. A coffee picture would be a good ice breaker, he’d thought.

He’d thought wrong.

He’d come back from the date to find Phichit sat at the kitchen table with his arms crossed, phone on the table, and scowl on his usually cheery features.

One look at his best friend’s face told Yuuri all he needed to know - Phichit _ knew _. He should have known better than to think he could keep it from him... 

“You’re seeing him again,” Phichit said bluntly, cutting right to the chase. “Aren’t you?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, lump lodged in his throat.

There was no point in lying…

“Yes.”

Phichit’s shoulders slumped, eyes pressing shut. He pulled in a steady breath, louder than normal. 

Yuuri was scared to know what was going through his head. “H-how did you know?”

_ Where had he gone wrong? _

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Phichit to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him… but he already knew what Phichit was going to say. He’d said it before when Yuuri had first agreed to meet up with Victor on that first date. The story wouldn’t change for the second date, or the third, or the fourth-

Phichit’s eyes snapped open, sharper than usual. 

“His reflection was in the spoon.”

Yuuri screamed silently in his head, too numb to speak. In his mind's eye, he could see it - how had he been so stupid?! He’d been so careful before but now he could see it, the flash of distorted silver in the warped reflection of the spoon, just a blur to anybody else unless they were somebody who _ knew. _

And Phichit _ knew _everything.

“Yuuri, _ why?” _he asked, mouth thinning as he rose to his feet, leveling the playing field. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, avoiding Phichit’s eye.

He knew exactly what his friend was thinking; that they were just fooling around, that Victor was just using him to get some in the aftermath of his divorce, to enjoy old memories with no interest in rekindling them… deep down, Yuuri knew that he was probably right, too. That was the worst bit.

But for those short dates that he spent with Victor, their hands brushing, his heart beating wildly in his chest just being in Victor’s proximity - it was the most alive he’d felt in the last ten years. 

It was like his heart was remembering how to beat again along with all the emotions that ran with it, addictive, and _ good _, and-

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice surprisingly firm.

Phichit’s eyebrows shot into his hairline… 

… and Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach. 

“I-I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair, stumbling for words. “You have Seung-gil and you’re happy. Y-you don’t know what it’s like-w-with Victor, I-”

The look in Phichit’s eyes shut him up, words drying up in his mouth like ash. They tasted sour, blood pounding nervously in Yuuri’s ears.

It wasn’t often that he saw Phichit angry. It didn’t happen much, and even less so was when it was directed at him. It just didn’t happen. They’d lived together so long that they didn’t need to argue, agreeing on almost everything and knowing where to push and pull with each other to help where they didn’t… except on this. 

Except on Victor.

_ “I don’t … get it?” _

Phichit’s voice was as cold as ice.

Yuuri didn’t bother trying to hide his flinch.

“Who was the one picking up the calls in the middle of the night when Victor went out without you?” Phichit said, hands curled tight at his sides. “Who flew over from Thailand to help you pack when he left? Who held you through every night for _ months _ because he left you so broken you couldn’t even _ sleep _without someone there?! Who-”

“Okay, I get it!” Yuuri yelled, scrunching his eyes shut. He still felt Phichit’s gaze though, burning into him. “It’s different this time though, it’s not like that…”

He couldn’t explain it, but he _ knew _ \- just like the first time he’d seen Victor on the television screen when he’d been a teenager and had known there was nobody else in the world better than him, like when he’d first touched Victor’s hand and _ knew _ that no other touch would ever compare, even when Victor broke his heart and he _ knew _ that the pain was special because Victor was making it hurt…

It was sick and it was crazy… but for Victor, it was worth it. Yuuri didn’t care if Victor was using him, if it would all end in disaster - for those short weeks he’d been back with him, it was like getting the chance to touch the sun. 

He’d already decided the privilege was worth burning for.

When Yuuri was brave enough to open his eyes again, Phichit’s gaze was softer than he was expecting, his head shaking. If anything, it was more… sad.

“Yuuri...”

Yuuri winced at the sympathy in his voice, wrapping his arms tight around himself. He didn’t want it. He didn’t need-

“It’s not going to work. You have to know that...” Out of the corner of Yuuri’s eye, he caught Phichit’s hand reach out carefully towards his. “You have to end it.”

Yuuri jerked away.

He bit his lip, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes.

Phichit didn’t understand. Not every love was like the love he’d had with Victor, not every connection as strong as theirs. Phichit and Seung-gil may be in love but it wasn’t the same. Phichit didn’t understand. Nobody did.

“I can’t,” Yuuri breathed, voice barely louder than a whisper. He felt like if he spoke any louder, the sound alone would shatter him. “I… I love him.”

“Yuuri…”

He could hear the disappointment in Phichit’s voice, feeling it chip away at his fragile self esteem and his traitorous brain mulling over the single _ ‘Yuuri’ _over and over again…

But he couldn’t help it. 

He couldn’t walk away from Victor. No matter how foolish or how unhealthy it might be, the only times that he felt like he existed were when he was with Victor.

“Can’t you… can’t you just be happy for me?” 

It was all he wanted. He knew he was torturing himself, he knew he was setting himself up for disaster, he _ knew _he was flying too close to the sun - he knew it all! He just didn’t want to fall alone. He wanted there to be someone to pick him up when it all came crashing down.

_ Phichit probably wouldn’t, _he realised with a quaking heart. He’d already done it once before, already picked up Yuuri’s broken pieces before. Why would he-

“Okay.”

Yuuri’s head snapped up so fast that his neck clicked, eyes wide.

Phichit stuck out a warning finger before he could speak. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about it,” he warned sternly, eyes firm. “But if he makes you happy… I trust you.”

Yuuri’s mouth hung open in shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears. _ No way _… Phichit had just-

“So,” Phichit took a deep breath. “Tell me about your date.”

* * *

It was on their eighth date through a fancy flower display that Victor finally broke the ice, asking the question that Yuuri had been wondering for the last two weeks.

“So…” he rubbed his hands nervously down the sides of his trousers, gaze nervously flickering between Yuuri’s and the flowers. “Are we… I mean, would it be okay for me to say that you’re my … boyfriend?”

Yuuri had decided two dates ago that he liked the new nervous Victor. 

Yuuri said yes.

Victor bought a bunch of daisies for his new boyfriend.

* * *

Introducing Yuuri to the kids was the hardest decision. 

Yuuri wanted to wait longer. He and Victor had only been officially dating for just over a few months when Victor decided to pop the idea, suggesting it one night over a movie. Dasha had the kids that night. It was the last night for a few weeks that she would, away on a business trip for the next month or so and leaving Victor with no choice but to take them. He didn’t mind.

But while they didn’t know about Yuuri, it made seeing each other difficult. It was either they see Yuuri, or they didn’t see each other at all.

_ For a whole month... _

Yuuri hadn’t been sure when Victor had asked, not wanting to overstep such a fragile boundary. There would be no going back after that. After that, it wouldn’t just be their own hearts concerned if things didn’t work out.

Yuuri had asked for time to think about it.

But really, there was nothing to think about. He loved Victor, and had no intention of going anywhere, and he didn’t know Victor’s kids. Victor did.

If he said that they were ready, Yuuri had to believe him.

It had taken a long time to decide how to approach the subject, but they’d eventually decided on a fun day out to do it - to ease the tension, make it easier if things got awkward. 

That was how Yuuri found himself at a kids theme park on the first Saturday Victor got the kids back, backpack strapped over his shoulder and holding Yura’s hand as they all crossed the parking lot together. Victor caught his eye, smiling softly. He was holding Beka’s hand. It was all very domestic.

Yuuri tried not to blush, turning his eyes back to the road. He had to focus. He couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong that day.

They’d set strict rules in place.

No kissing, no holding hands, no pet names - _ nothing _ that could be considered over familiar in front of the children. Everything was going to be very appropriate, very proper. They had to be on their best behaviour. 

After all, the last time the kids had seen Yuuri, he’d been in his underwear and covered in hickeys...

A tug on his hand distracted him.

Bright green eyes blinked up at him, round and curious. Somehow, Yuuri felt a bolt of fear go through him.

“I want to go on that one,” Yura pointed, arm dead straight to the ride on his left.

Yuuri followed his gaze. 

A roller coaster. Yuuri’s mouth ran dry. Sure, it was only a small roller coaster - nothing more dramatic than some sharp dips and tight turns - but roller coasters meant _ screams _ and Yuuri desperately didn’t want to be stuck with a screaming, upset child if it didn’t work out. 

“Um, okay.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. What else could he say? He turned to his date. “V-Victor?”

Victor glanced over, eyes round and bright. It took years off him, nothing like the tired, worn down wreck he’d been when he’d stumbled back into Yuuri’s life. 

Yuuri jerked his head to the ride. “That one?” 

His heart hammered as Victor’s eyes sailed over him to the ride, expression unreadable. The seconds seemed to drag on painfully long. Yuuri wet his dry lips, nervous. Maybe Victor knew that Yura wouldn’t like the ride. Maybe he was wondering if Yura would be sick, or scream, or-

A smile smoothed over his mouth as he caught Yuuri’s eye again. “Okay.”

They joined the queue.

It wasn’t that Yuuri was bad with kids - he just didn’t have enough experience with them to know if he was good or bad at all. Sure, Yuuko had had the triplets - but he’d barely been in Hasetsu when they had been young and even when he had, he had been too busy training to spend much time with them enough to be comfortable with them as kids. They looked up to him as a skater, already loving him. 

Yura and Otabek weren’t like that. Yuuri had to learn how to win them over somehow, wanting to be cool for they’d like him but also practical enough that Victor knew he could trust him with. If they had any chance of lasting, Yuuri knew the kids had to be on his side.

Yura was still staring at him in the queue - not saying anything, just staring. Yuuri found it odd.

He kept his eyes trained ahead, not sure what else to do. He didn’t know what to say to engage the kid in conversation and he certainly didn’t want to just stare back. He didn’t want to be _ that guy _ staring at a child in a kids theme park on his date-not-date!

“Um...”

He had to say something - anything! He glanced over at Victor for help but he was too busy fussing over Otabek’s bow tie to notice.

Instead, it was Yura who finally broke the silence. 

“Your hand is sweaty.”

Yuuri felt his heart drop to his stomach in horror.

“I-is it?” _ Of course it was… _ he let go of Yura’s hand for a split second to rub it against his jeans, feeling his cheeks redden and wishing the ground would swallow him up. “I’m sorry.”

Yura just blinked. “Why is your face red?”

_ Oh God… _

“Um-” Yuuri tripped over his tongue, feeling his palm get sweaty all over again as Yura stared at him with those ever curious green eyes. 

He’d forgotten how children just … _ said _everything.

He sighed with relief when they finally sat down on the ride, him and Yura in one row and Victor and Beka behind them. _ Finally _Yura stopped looking at him. Yuuri sat back, getting a breather from Yura’s attention for just thirty precious seconds as the ride took off. It wasn’t fast - at least not by Yuuri’s standards. He barely blinked as the coaster ran through hills, and dips, and turns, hearing Victor cheesily ‘whoop’ behind him-

Tiny arms clasped around his elbow, making Yuuri jump. He glanced down in surprise. Yura was clinging onto him as the rickety ride ran its course, eyes big and round - not crying! - but holding onto Yuuri’s arm tight.

The ride was over before Yuuri could figure out what he should have done.

Yura didn’t wait for Yuuri - he clambered over Yuuri’s lap to harass his father, jumping for them to go on it again. 

Yuuri got out in a daze, watching Victor smile at him while he juggled the three year old hanging off his arm and the five year old sulking behind him. He took Victor’s backpack out of the carriage, slinging it over his shoulder along with his one as they left the ride behind.

The pictures weren’t flattering. Yura had insisted they check them before they went round again, and Yuuri grimaced when he saw. The hair whipped back from his face made his cheeks look extra round and the camera had somehow caught him at the moment where Yura had grabbed his arm, face looking blank and frowning oddly. It wasn’t a good look.

He wasn’t the only one. The sunlight had caught Victor’s forehead unfortunately and Otabek’s grimace had been warped into making his eyes look wider apart than they actually were.

The only one with a half decent picture was Yura, bug eyed and enthralled in the picture and clinging to Yuuri’s arm for dear life.

And for some reason he liked it.

He _ did _finally scream when Victor tried to walk on and leave the picture behind, Yuuri wincing at the sound. He didn’t blame Victor for digging out his wallet, little Yura leaving the rollercoaster with a fridge magnet of their adventure. He put it in his backpack, going right back to holding Yuuri’s hand.

He looked up again with those big green eyes, perhaps a fraction brighter than before. “What now?”

* * *

Beka was less enamoured. 

“You eat a lot,” he said with a deadpan expression over lunch, after staring at Yuuri eating his burger for a good five minutes.

Yuuri nearly choked on his food. “Um-”

He’d thought he’d been being good! He’d ordered a burger and a fruit pack - hoping to set a good example to the kids after Yura had cried earlier after Victor had tried to feed him some apple slices. It had been an exhausting lunch trip. They were eating an hour later than they’d planned to because Otabek had decided that he wanted chicken nuggets - and no, strips were _ not _the same as chicken nuggets - which for some reason only one cafe all the way across the park had.

“Otabek!” Victor snapped, frowning across the table. “That’s rude. Yuuri just needs a lot of energy.”

His eyes flickered to Yuuri, head tipping subtly in apology.

Yuuri nodded back, swallowing the thick lump in his throat-

“But won’t it make him fat?”

Yuuri’s eyes flashed wide with horror.

Across the table, he caught Victor’s sudden mortified expression too. “He’s not fat-”

“I’m not-” 

Yuuri choked on his words as soon as he heard the ‘f’ word leave Victor’s mouth, remembering how self conscious he’d been of his weight when he’d been younger, how he was reasonably trim for someone his age but still rather soft around the middle.

Victor blinked in panic, Yuuri reading the regret flashing instantly in his eyes. “I-I didn’t say you were!”

“But you-”

“Yuuri, I-”

* * *

It was a long day.

Well, for Yuuri, technically it wasn’t. It was just past seven, the park now closed, two sleeping children in the back of the car… and for some reason, Yuuri felt _ exhausted. _He wasn’t sure if it was being out all day, or the early dinner, or the fact that his heart skipped a beat whenever he noticed that Yura’s hand wasn’t in his and having a mini stroke until he spotted the kid pulling on Victor’s trouser leg just feet away… 

Whatever it was, he understood now why Victor had looked so tired when he’d first shown up in his cafe. Kids really were tiring.

Despite his exhaustion and the two children out like a light in their car seats, Victor looked fresh faced and delighted behind the wheel, eyes sparkling and smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

He looked happy.

It made Yuuri’s stomach do somersaults.

_ They’d done it. _

With a quick check to make sure that, yes, the kids were definitely out for the count, they shared a proud smile … and their fingers entwined together over the central console.

* * *

“So,” Victor asked as he later tucked the boys into bed, still smiling. “What did you think of Yuuri today?”

Yuuri had gone home. Victor had dropped him back first, letting the kids sleep on instead of waking them to say goodbye so that they could share a quick kiss over the console. It had been a brilliant day. Not that Victor had had any doubts to begin with but now that he _ knew, _he was delighted.

Otabek was twirling his thumbs under the covers across the room, expression bored. “I like him.”

Victor sat perched on the end of Yura’s bed, knowing the younger one was always more of a pain to get to sleep at bedtime. For once though, there wasn’t a scene. The fridge magnet from the roller coaster was tucked into his teddy’s arms, Victor’s eyes drawn to it and trying not to flinch at the sparkle from his forehead in the photo.

“Yeah…” Yura said quietly, cheeks pink in the dim nightlights. “He’s nice.”

Victor blinked in surprise. 

He hadn’t been expecting that. 

Beka usually made do and took a little longer to figure out what he _ really _ thought of people but Yura was usually forthcoming - and it was rarely in a good way! When Dasha had first introduced them to her new boyfriend, he’d remembered that Yura had come back screaming and yelling for _ hours _ . He’d expected something similar for Yuuri. He’d expected _ worse _ for Yuuri. He’d expected Yura to throw things at him, scream until his face was red, say rude things endlessly - anything to make Yuuri’s life miserable…

But he’d been … good.

Victor’s lips spread in a soft smile, heart so full in his chest that it could burst. If things kept on going well, maybe he could one day have what he’d always wanted with Yuuri all that time ago… a family.

He cleared his throat, blinking fast to keep his eyes dry as he adjusted the blankets under Yura’s chin. 

“He might be around more often.” He hoped the kids didn’t notice his voice waver. “Would that be okay?”

When Victor had finished wishing them a goodnight and closed the door quietly behind him, he finally buried his face in his hands and let the relieved chuckles quietly bob out of him. For the first time in years, everything was actually going right.

_ They’d said yes. _

* * *

Dates started turning into more family affairs. Yuuri had expected it to be stressful, expecting to look forward to dates less and less, and worried the relationship would start to fizzle and die...

In fact, he couldn’t have been more wrong - he hadn’t had so much fun in years as he did in those weeks playing happy families with Victor!

They took the kids swimming. 

Yuuri taught Beka how to front crawl, not minding nearly as much as he thought he would about getting splashed in the face over and over again until Beka finally got his balance. He’d helped top up Yura’s ridiculously large yellow arm bands, timing how long he could hold his breath.

They found out Yuuri danced when they picked him up from the studio one day, still in his tights with a sweater thrown over his leotard. 

“You dance?!” Yura’s eyes were as round as dinner plates in the back of the car, leaning forward eagerly in his car seat.

“Um…” Yuuri blushed as he pulled on his seat belt. “Yeah.”

“Can you teach me?”

Yuuri glanced across the console to Victor, but he wouldn’t meet his gaze, too busy checking the mirrors as he pulled the car out. His lips tweaked in an amused smirk though. Yuuri took that as a _ ‘yes’ _. “Sure, of course.”

By the time Victor had served up dinner that night, Yura had been jumping around the apartment with his arms wildly in the air. The only way they’d gotten him to sit down to eat was to convince him they were practising their _ ‘good’ _ toes and _ ‘naughty’ _toes under the table.

The next week, they both went to Beka’s music recital.

Yuuri sat beside Victor feeling a little out of place amongst all the rich parents around them, catching a few odd glances his way before the lights dimmed down. 

As soon as Beka stepped out on stage though and strung the first note of his violin, the sound soft, and sure, and… _ beautiful - _none of it mattered. The rest of the room melted away.

Until Victor sucked in a sharp breath beside him and his hand jolted out to Yuuri’s thigh. 

Yuuri tried to keep his recording phone steady as he glanced over to the Russian, heart skipping a beat in concern as fingers tightened over his trousers. As soon as he saw the misty eyes and the choked up smile on Victor’s face though, he _ got it. _ He was just so _ proud. _

And oddly, so was Yuuri.

He tangled his fingers with Victor’s and squeezed tight as they listened to the performance, Yuuri not caring if his video caught their over enthusiastic cheering at the end as Beka took a shy bow on stage. He couldn’t help it, chest inexplicably tight with emotion and heart full as they clapped until their palms stung.

It was the life he’d always wanted.

It was the life he’d always wanted with _ Victor _.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Yuri being a cute little kid, he’s so adorable in my head <3 
> 
> Side note, I don’t have kids so not entirely sure how kids work but hanging out with my friends kids occasionally I have learned some things. Like that they run first, think later, eating is the biggest drama in the world, and they just … say things. Embarrassing things. Like shouting ‘why are your boobs so big?’ in the middle of the store -_- Thanks, Bethany. Thanks a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

“Moving?”

Yuuri could hardly believe his ears, the words bouncing around loud and clear but … not making sense. Phichit and Seung-gil were… leaving the city?

They sat across the kitchen table from him, Seung-gil as stoic as ever and Phichit a weird clash between nervous and excited. Yuuri could see the way his eyes lit up as he’d broken the news but also caught the weird little crease in his brow when he double glanced back at Yuuri, waiting for his reaction.

Which currently, was still stunned.

Yuuri had never imagined that Phichit would ever leave the city.

“Seung-gil’s had an offer that he just…” Phichit’s eyes glowed as he glanced over to his husband. “Well, it’s a real good deal. He’d never really liked this apartment - it was only ever supposed to be temporary.”

Yuuri ducked his head, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck. It had been temporary… until Yuuri had shown up back in the picture again after his breakup with Victor in Russia. And … had never left. He’d ruined the  _ temporary.  _ It was all his fault.

“And we were hoping with the extra space we’d have that we might even be able to get a dog!”

Yuuri’s lips twitched in a small smile. 

He was happy for the couple - he really was! Buying a house, getting a dog, settling down on their own without him to darken their doorstep… but he couldn’t afford the rent on his own for the apartment. He just couldn’t. The thought lingered guiltily in the back of his mind, dampening his enthusiasm.

He’d seen apartments in his price range and they weren’t pretty. Moving back with his parents in Japan was out of the question. He guessed he could sleep in the back of the cafe if he had to, but… it wouldn’t be a home.

And how long would it take Victor to find out?

He’d never be happy knowing that Yuuri lived like that - but Yuuri couldn’t ask for anything more. Victor had children. Things weren’t as simple as they used to be...

“We won’t be far,” Phichit reassured after a moment when Yuuri stayed silent, as if that was the cause for his quietness. “I’ll still be able to stop by the cafe every now and then…”

Yuuri darted his tongue out, wetting his dry lips. “W-when do you go?”

As much as he wanted to be happy for his friend, all Yuuri could think about was the numbers crunching in his head.

* * *

Yuuri wasn’t sure how he was going to break it to Victor, how he was going to ask. It was an impossible thing to ask. They hadn’t been together that long in reality, certainly not long enough for Yuuri to ask this of Victor - even more so with the children involved! It was foolish. He shouldn’t ask. He couldn’t-

“So,” Victor cut through Yuuri’s trail of thought with a bright smile as he sat down on the couch beside him, handing him a glass of wine. 

The kids were in bed. The dishes had all been put away. 

This was their time - a single glass of white wine while they curled up on the couch and watched a movie, before Yuuri called a cab for himself back home. While it was still home. He didn’t have long. Three weeks before Phichit was leaving. Yuuri could probably pull together the funds to pay for the rent on his own for another month, but after that…

Yuuri took a deeper gulp of his wine than he probably should have, enjoying the way the alcohol tasted sharp on his tongue even though it left the glass half empty.

“Your line is a hit,” Victor murmured softly as he arm winds around Yuuri’s, nuzzling himself into Yuuri’s side. He liked to do that, Yuuri knows. Usually, it’s when the movie is playing, watching with his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. The TV is still off though, no movie playing. Victor wants to talk tonight. “Who knew Yuuri Katsuki could be a style icon.”

Victor’s chuckle just churns Yuuri’s stomach though, unable to share in Victor’s joy. He was happy for him though.

He still remembered that time in Victor’s studio on their redemption date, Victor watching him with those softly hooded eyes, holding up colours to Yuuri’s skin, draping him in soft blues and delicate wools like he was a work of art… Yuuri hadn’t even imagined that Victor would end up making a whole collection around him though!

Baby blue sweaters, oversized shirts tucked into soft rolled up jeans, chunky knit dresses that were just oh-so soft to touch when Victor had taken Yuuri to see. It had been amazing. Victor had taken Yuuri’s style… and made it stylish.

And it had just been approved by his board of endorsers that week, ready to be finalised for the runway.

The flush on Victor’s cheeks betrayed just how happy he was with it as he curled into Yuuri, grin beaming from his face. Yuuri wanted to stare at him forever, to enjoy the moment, to celebrate with him… as it was, he just couldn’t stop  _ thinking. _

“I was thinking …” Victor started, finger toying with an old bobble in the sleeve of Yuuri’s jumper. “Maybe …”

Yuuri sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut.

He could practically hear it already. It wasn’t the first time Victor had asked. Maybe he could street model the new clothes, maybe he could walk the signature jeans and sweater down the runway, maybe he could just take one photo at the photoshoot for the collection named after him…

Yuuri appreciated it, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want the attention. He didn’t mind Victor admiring him, using him for inspiration, dressing him up behind closed doors - that was fine. 

But he wanted it for Victor’s eyes - not for the rest of the world. He didn’t care about them. 

“Maybe next week you don’t have to go home.”

Yuuri’s mouth opened, ready to gently break his ‘no’ for the umpteenth time that month, to gently let Victor down…

He froze when Victor’s words actually sank in though, nothing to do with the collection at all. Yuuri opened his eyes, glancing down at his boyfriend. Victor’s eyebrows were nervously pinched together, looking suddenly so much younger than his true years, eyes round and uncertain.

_ Had… had Victor really just asked what Yuuri thought he’d just asked? _

“Maybe …” Victor went on, voice barely more than a whisper. “This could be your home from now on? With us...”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe, feeling his chest tight and his head spin. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He’d been supposed to ask. That had been the forbidden question he hadn’t been supposed to ask. How did Victor know?

_ Did _ he know? Yuuri hadn’t told Victor about Phichit leaving, about his living problems yet. Would Phichit have told Victor without telling Yuuri?  _ No…  _ he might have done further down the line if he realised Yuuri still hadn’t been able to make arrangements for himself, but Phichit wouldn’t just do it now before Yuuri had had a chance to tackle it for himself. He knew Yuuri was too proud for that.

Which meant that Victor was asking - genuinely asking! Without pity, or condolence, or Phichit interfering… he  _ wanted  _ it...

Yuuri’s eyes were wide, sucking in a shaky breath. There was only ever going to be one answer though - “O-okay.”

* * *

They sat down with the kids at the weekend to talk about it, after Yuuri and Victor had worked out some of the kinks. There had been a lot to discuss.

Yuuri had still been wary about the idea, even though he knew without a second’s thought that he wanted to live with Victor again. He knew it wasn’t simple anymore. Nothing was simple. The children made it so - not that Yuuri would change them for the world! He loved them more than he’d expected to, feeling an unexpected protectiveness and pride for them. He knew it was nowhere near the level of love Victor had for them as their father, but he cared. He cared a lot.

Like when Beka finally wrapped his head around the concept Yuuri had been helping him with in his Russian homework for nearly an hour, the warmth swelling in his chest was more than he could describe. He guessed he was getting a taste of what fatherhood was like.

And the kids liked him too. He knew they did. Yura showed it in the way he demanded to spend time with him, no matter the stubborn grimace on his face. Beka was more subtle, not saying much. But Victor reassured Yuuri, and Victor knew Beka better than anyone.

Yuuri was still nervous though as Victor gathered them all around the dining table, still twisting his hands nervously under the table.

He hadn’t been sure if he should be present for this. He’d said as much to Victor. The kids might not be fully honest in front of Yuuri, might say more to Victor alone than they would with Yuuri there...

Victor hadn’t wanted to hear it though. He’d insisted Yuuri stay, that he be part of the discussion like he was part of the family.

Because that is what they wanted after all.

To be a family.

Victor had been bubbling with excitement as they sat down, clasping his hands tightly together to resist the urge to grab Yuuri’s instead. 

“You know how Yuuri has been spending a lot of time with us lately?” he asked, voice barely containing his excitement. The grin on his face was far from subtle. 

The children nodded.

“Well,” Victor glanced over to Yuuri. Yuuri took a deep breath. “How would you feel about Yuuri coming to live here with us too?”

Yuuri held his breath, the kids eyes turning to him. 

Just because they liked him didn’t mean that they’d want to see more of him. He knew that. They might not want to live with him. They might even like him  _ because  _ they didn’t live with him, the fact that he wasn’t always around the thing that made him fun and exciting. Yuuri felt the weight of their gaze and the thickness of the silence weigh heavily on his shoulders, breaths shortening and chest getting tighter by the minute.

Yuuri didn’t notice the light flush on Yura’s cheeks or the flicker of brightness that darted through Beka’s eyes.

“ _ Hm _ ,” Yura huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “I guess...”

Yuuri’s heart leapt in his chest. 

Beka just blinked. “I kind of thought he did already…” he said to his father, expression just as unreadable as ever to Yuuri. Maybe one day…

He guessed in Beka-language that it was a yes though, judging from the way Victor’s beam grew - impossibly! - wider beside him. Yuuri’s ears were ringing as he vaguely heard Victor keep talking, reassuring the boys that nothing much would change - just that Yuuri would be with them in the mornings now as well as the evenings. Under the table, Victor reached over and squeezed Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri knew he should be paying attention. He should be listening to what Victor was saying and learning how he could slot into their life without causing too much of a disturbance, judging the kids reactions, working out what would be best for them all… in fact, he was paralysed by Victor’s fingers around his own, heart beating fast in his chest, and blood boxing in his ears.

_ He shouldn’t be so nervous _ , he told himself.

It would be fine. Victor knew his kids. He wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t okay - and they’d said yes anyway! They liked him. Yuuri was nice. He would be fine…

But when Victor’s hand slipped free of his own under the table, Yuuri felt his heart skip a beat in unexplainable panic.

Victor’s chair legs scraped gently against the kitchen floor as he stood, slipping his phone out of his pocket. He was still grinning, cheeks rosy. “I’ll go order pizza to celebrate.”

Yuuri’s blood ran cold. 

He couldn’t be left alone with the kids. He absolutely couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he could fill the silence, if he could hold it together without Victor-

“Vict-”

Victor was already gone.

Yuuri’s voice choked in his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of two pairs of tiny eyes on him, feeling the pressure sink into his shoulders and the responsibility pull down on him. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know where he fitted in in this little family yet...

The silence thickened, Yuuri forcing himself to sit still in his seat, slipping his hands under his thighs to stop them fidgeting. He didn’t want the kids to see that he was nervous.

“Do we have to call you papa?” 

The question was so quiet that Yuuri almost thought he’d imagined it for a moment. One glance up though, and he knew he hadn’t.

Yura wasn’t looking at him anymore, wasn’t smiling - he was looking down at the tabletop while his fingers played with the sleeve of his sweater, mouth tugged downwards in the corners. He looked sad. More than sad. Yuuri had never seen him so subdued, so… lifeless.

Yuuri froze -  _ something felt wrong. _

“No…” he said slowly, unease creeping through his system. “Just...call me Yuuri.”

They’d always called him Yuuri.  _ Always _ . Even that just that same afternoon, he’d been  _ Yuuri _ to them. What really had changed in those few short hours - in those few short  _ minutes  _ since Victor had stepped out?!

Yura didn’t look any happier about the reassurance though, mouth still pulled down in the corners in a grim tug.

“Pasha makes us call him papa.”

“Pash-”

_ Oh. _

Yuuri suddenly realised, before the question had even finished leaving his lips. Pasha Savchenko - Dasha’s boyfriend. He vaguely remembered seeing him in the magazines. 

He hadn’t realised that he lived with Dasha now.

He hadn’t realised the kids had to call him ‘papa’, like he was their father, like he was Victor - as if he could ever take Victor’s place!

Yuuri’s heart swelled in his chest at the thought, feeling his breaths quicken. Not for him for once - for the kids. They looked so miserable - even Beka, eyes low and avoiding his gaze, faces pale and drawn. They didn’t look like kids anymore. They looked half traumatised. Unease gnarled in his stomach.

He’d only glimpsed fleeting pictures of Pasha - but he had never really looked like the fatherly type, in Yuuri’s opinion. Yuuri remembered seeing a snap of him with Yura, in designer jeans totally impractical for running after kids, Yura chucked up in his arm in a way that Yuuri could see from the photo was uncomfortable for the boy. He’d not thought much of it at the time, blamed it on a bad angle, an unexpected picture… now though, he started to wonder if maybe Pasha just didn’t care…

But then again, he might be wrong. 

He hadn’t been around long. It might not be the boyfriend - it might just be the stress of the divorce in general taking its toll on the kids. Yuuri hadn’t been around then. He didn’t know. 

All he knew was that something was bothering the kids - something they couldn’t say - something they thought he might become too now that he was moving in.

He wondered if Victor knew...

All he knew now though was that he never wanted the kids to have that look in their eyes when they talked about him in Dasha’s kitchen. He wanted them smiling, thinking of him fondly, wanted them happy...

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said slowly and calmly, trying to ignore the racing beat of his heart in his chest. “Not if you don’t want to.”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it...

… but he wanted to  _ earn  _ it.

* * *

Victor decided against their usual wine and movie that night, switching it out for music and champagne instead. Not loud, and not much; just a gentle romantic sway and the modest glass or two to get Victor’s eyelids to hood oh-so enticingly when the alcohol hit his bloodstream.

His hand was warm in Yuuri’s, the other against the small of Yuuri’s back, holding their bodies sinfully close. They swayed in time with the quiet tune, enjoying the warmth of each other’s embrace and the subtle intimacy it lended.

“I can’t believe it took me ten years to get it right,” Victor murmured in Yuuri’s ear, voice soft as velvet.

It made Yuuri’s insides turn to mush.

“Better late than never…” he all but sighed back.

He hadn’t had more than one glass of champagne already he felt lost, fingertips blissfully numb in Victor’s hand and knees weak from where Victor was gently nibbling on his earlobe. He could feel the flush hot on his chest. If the kids hadn’t been home that night, he would have been pretty sure that Victor’s hand would sneak lower down his jeans, kisses travel along his jawline, tease even more sounds from Yuuri as he-

Victor chuckled softly, wrenching Yuuri back to the present. Yuuri could taste his laugh in the air and the champagne on his breath, light and delighted.

“We should go somewhere,” Victor said, pulling back to touch his forehead to Yuuri’s. His bright blue eyes flickered up through fluttering silver eyelashes, positively sparkling. “A vacation … to celebrate...”

Yuuri’s heart swelled in his chest, hypnotised by Victor’s molten gaze. He could look at Victor’s eyes forever... “Where would we go?”

A vacation would be incredible.

He loved the kids … but at the same time he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind a trip without them for just the once - like the honeymoon they’d never had. To be able to kiss Victor whenever he liked, to be able to tangle in the sheets together without children to have to wake in the morning, to explore every inch of that perfect pale skin at his leisure and make Victor positively sing under his touch…

“Anywhere,” Victor breathed against his lips, making Yuuri’s knees go blissfully weak. “Everywhere.”

A lump caught in Yuuri’s throat. “Not Barcelona.”

Victor stiffened in Yuuri’s arms, swaying jolting out of beat with the music. After a tense moment though, he relaxed again. “No,” he agreed quietly. “Not Barcelona.”

* * *

Yuuri was mumming as he washed the dishes in the sink. They’d had a nice weekend while the kids had been with their mother, the dull ache in Yuuri’s hips and lower back reminding him of their  _ activities _ . His cheeks glowed, smiling to himself.

The doorbell rang. 

“Victor!” Yuuri called through the apartment. His hands were still wet. 

Victor was just sorting out laundry in the bedrooms after all - trying out the new folding techniques he’d learned in his new Marie Kondo book. He should be able to get the door. He should be able to hear Yuuri.

The doorbell rang again.

_ Perhaps not. _

“Vic-”

Yuuri still had the damp towel in his fingers as he gave up waiting on his boyfriend and marched to the door himself, twisting the lock open. He looked down instinctively, smiling as the two familiar children beamed up at him.

When he glanced up though, the smile died on his face.

Dasha was white as snow.

“What the  _ fuck _ -” It took everything in Yuuri not to wince at her cold tone. “Are you doing here?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly. “I, um-”

“Yuuri lives with us now.”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut as Yura so innocently spoke, heart plummeting in his chest.  _ Shit _ . He could feel this was going to go bad.

“What?!”

When Yuuri opened his eyes, Dasha’s were jerking up from snapping down to her children, wild and dangerous as they scanned over Yuuri. Up and down -  _ judging _ him, a sneer on her face. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never spoken to the woman before, never properly met her... 

“Dasha.”

Yuuri jumped as Victor suddenly appeared beside him in the doorway, face drawn and expression stony. Yuuri was glad to see him - he needed help. 

It shifted Dasha’s murderous gaze off Yuuri at least.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” she hissed at Victor. “You’re  _ living  _ with him?! Under the same roof as my children?!”

Yuuri blinked in surprise, unable to help himself. “Y-you didn’t tell her?”

He’d known he had never formally met Dasha, but frankly - knowing what frosty terms she and Victor were on - he’d assumed it was just because nothing would come of meeting her. But he’d assumed that she’d at least  _ known  _ about him. He’d assumed Victor had told her. How else was she supposed to find out?! 

_ Not like this,  _ he thought feebly in his head, voice small as Victor cast a short glare in Yuuri’s direction.  _ Please, God, not like this... _

“I was…” Victor mumbled, not quite meeting Yuuri’s eye. “I was going to, but …”

Yuuri’s stomach twisted, knuckles going white around the door handle. He felt sick, clinging for control and fighting to keep his breaths even. He didn’t want to lose it in front of the children, not in front of them…

_ Maybe Phichit had really been right … maybe Victor didn’t really take him seriously as a boyfriend after all... _

“We’re leaving.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched - and the next thing he saw was the back of Dasha’s jacket, the children already pulled away from the door. A flash of blonde - Yuuri caught Yura’s confused eyes glancing back over his shoulder, peeking around his mother’s arm. Yuuri’s heart ached for him.

“Dasha, wait!” Victor called, stepping out into the hallway. “You can’t-”

Dasha whipped around, eyes all but murderous.

_ “I will not have my children around disgusting people like you!” _

Yuuri gasped, shocked. It had been in Russian, but he was surprised at how much of it came back to him. He recognised the ugly words, air punching out of his lungs because he just couldn’t believe that he was really hearing them again.

_ “You’re sick, Victor,”  _ she hissed, Yuuri hearing every word with horrific clarity. _ “How fucking dare you-” _

When he and Victor had gone public years ago, not everyone had been so accepting of their relationship. They got rumours. Names. Ruthless articles. Yuuri knew what the slander sounded like, recognised the Russian syllables.

He’d never expected to hear it all again.

Nor had Victor, judging from the stunned silence from the Russian, the air in the corridor thick with tension.

Finally, Dasha broke it.

“Come on,” she muttered in English to the kids, casting one last dirty look back at Victor over her shoulder.

Victor snapped. 

“No!” Victor stepped forward, arm reaching out down the corridor. Yuuri heard the panic in his voice. “No! You can’t-”

“Victor.”

Yuuri spoke quietly, hand touching Victor’s bicep. 

He didn’t pull him back - he didn’t need to. The touch alone was enough to wrench Victor’s attention, his eyes - blazing fierce with rage - snapping down to him. Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath, clinging to his composure.

“Not like this,” he implored quietly, heart aching the further Dasha got down the corridor. He knew - it was taking everything in him from running after them as well. “It’s better to let them go than to cause a scene.”

Victor was angry, wasn’t thinking straight. Yuuri didn’t want to children to see their father screaming at their mother, didn’t want to hear the insults that might follow, the ugly truth of adulthood that wasn’t their burden yet to bear… they would remember it. Yuuri knew. Kids remembered things like that, and the last memory he ever wanted them to have of their father was as a wild, angry brute. 

Victor tensed under his touch, and for one frightful moment, Yuuri thought he was just going to shrug him off and race after them anyway. 

He held his breath, already thinking of what he could say to reassure the kids.

Whenever he might see them…

The thought had his heart skipping a horrified beat in his chest, fingers tensing in Victor’s sleeve. It was hard for him too.

A second later, Yuuri heard the  _ ding  _ of the elevator.

He pressed his eyes shut, hand falling away from Victor. Victor raked his hands through his hair the second he was free, turning back into the apartment. Yuuri heard something break.

He sucked in a shaky breath, blinking fast to keep his eyes dry when they opened.

_ Everything was going wrong again. _

* * *

“She can’t take them. She  _ can’t _ take them. She can’t - she just… can’t…”

Yuuri said nothing, listening silently to Victor’s ramblings. He’d lost track of the time. It could have been hours. It could have been days. The light had faded out the window, the flat dark. Neither of them had moved to switch the light on.

They just lay on the couch illuminated by moonlight, Yuuri’s arms around Victor while the Russian mumbled to himself, over and over again, the same mantra…

Yuuri stroked slowly through Victor’s hair, not sure what to say. He was still in shock. He couldn’t believe what had happened had been real, that the kids really hadn’t come home.

“Can she?” he finally asked, breaking his silence. “Don’t you have a custody agreement?”

In his arms, Victor flinched. 

“Not formally,” he said quietly. “We just… agreed to stay in contact. To be fair. We thought that was for the best…”

It may have been at the time. One less thing to have to fight over in court - their children, of all things! But now, without the power of a court issued custody agreement, it meant Victor had no protection, no rights violated, no authority to demand his children back.

* * *

The next morning, Victor was like a robot. He drank his coffee with odd methodical sips, wearing his shirt inside out, and leaving his breakfast untouched. There were bags under his eyes, staring ahead, blank and gaunt.

Until the phone rang.

“Hello?” he snapped as he picked it up, expression sharpening.

He didn’t put the phone on speaker, Yuuri left to stare into his own coffee mug as the one sided conversation played out. Victor didn’t say anything. Yuuri didn’t dare interrupt. 

He didn’t think it was Dasha. If it were Dasha, he was sure Victor wouldn’t be so composed, that he’d be raging and demanding his kids to be able to come back. He wouldn’t just be sat calmly at the table, face white and spare hand clenched into a white knuckled fist. If it had been the kids themselves, Victor would have stopped blabbing. He’d be reassuring them, calming them, being their  _ father _ … but if it wasn’t Dasha or the kids, who would Victor still give the time to listen to at a time like this?

After a few silent minutes, Victor swallowed thickly, visibly paler than when he’d first picked up the phone. 

“ _ Okay _ .” 

His voice sounded strangled.

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He didn’t say as word as Victor slowly lowered the phone, thumbing the ‘end call’ button like it was an afterthought. The phone clattered down on the table, making Yuuri jump.

“That was my lawyer,” Victor said to his clenched hands, biting out every word. “She’s …” His eyes scrunched shut. “She’s filing for sole custody.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning - panic attacks in this chapter

“Your history might work against you,” Victor’s lawyer said from the other side of his desk, sun setting through the window outside him burning the skyline orange. Yuuri tried to focus on that rather than the reality. “The timing of relationship might be seen as … provocative.”

They’d dragged themselves down to Victor’s lawyer’s office the same afternoon they’d gotten the phone call, Yuuri still numb with shock and Victor driven with a scary focus as he’d gotten ready in record time. He’d insisted Yuuri come. He hadn’t given a reason, and Yuuri hadn’t asked for one. He knew better than to question Victor at a time like this.

The lawyer was different to what Yuuri had expected. Maybe he hadn’t been sure what he’d expected.

All he knew was that the man on the other side of the desk looked fresh out of Suits, looked way too young to have his own office, yet had a steely determination in his gaze that Yuuri found somehow reminded him of Victor in his competitive days. 

_ He just hoped that it paid off. _

“Provocative?”

Yuuri felt his blood run cold, matching Victor’s icy tone from the chair beside him. “As in…” his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “Victor’s only with me just to upset Dasha?”

The lawyer nodded calmly. “That is how a judge may see it, yes.”

Yuuri found to keep his next breath steady.

He could see how a judge would think that - hell,  _ Phichit _ had even thought it when he’d first found out about Victor! It had all been very convenient. Victor  _ falling _ for Yuuri on the eve of his divorce, tempting him into his bed the night before he knew his ex-wife would be back by the apartment, winning him over with those bright blue eyes and that lazy, beautiful smile that he knew Yuuri couldn’t resist… 

Victor had always said that Dasha had come back to the apartment early that first day she’d seen Yuuri, the day after they’d first hooked up. He had no proof that was true. Victor had just … said it - and Yuuri had just believed it, naively. Maybe Dasha had been supposed to come in the morning the whole time, maybe Victor knew she would see Yuuri leave the apartment covered in his marks and bruises, maybe he had planned it, maybe he had  _ wanted _ her to see-

“It’s not true,” Victor spat out before Yuuri’s thoughts could run away any further, eyes fierce. They flickered across to Yuuri, the knuckles of his fists in his lap white. “It’s  _ not  _ true.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore...

“It doesn’t matter,” the lawyer cut in before Yuuri could say anything. He wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway… “And the conduct the relationship was discovered in was … less than ideal.”

_ Half naked and covered in hickeys _ , a voice in Yuuri’s head snidely reminded him. Yeah … he remembered.

Any other time, he would have flushed scarlet. He remembered the mortification and the humiliation of that sickening morning, the morning he found out that Victor was still legally married at that point. He was sure that was somewhere in Dasha’s arguments too. As it was, he was too horrified to feel embarrassed, stone cold numb as the nightmare unfolded.

“So what do we do?” Victor asked, voice calmer than Yuuri had expected.

Victor’s lawyer sighed quietly.

“I’ve spoken to Ms Lebedeva’s lawyer,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “There doesn’t seem to be a compromise that she’s willing to make while the situation continues.”

“The situation?” Yuuri’s mouth ran dry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could Victor’s fist tighten over his thigh. When he glanced up, Victor’s eyes were blazing.

“It’s not fair,” he all but growled. “She can be with Pasha, but I can’t be with Yuuri?  _ That’s _ her dealbreaker?!”

“Ms Lebedeva is arguing that your relationship is a negative influence on the children.”

“Just because Yuuri is a man?!”

Yuuri listened on, feeling numb. It was just like ten years ago in Russia, the scrutiny, the arguments - all because they were two men… 

Victor’s lawyer didn’t buckle under pressure though, composure cool and calm through it all. He didn’t mince the truth. He hold them how it was, with clear, clean words and laser focus.

It cut like a knife now though… "If this goes to court, they have arguments against us."

If they couldn't come to an agreement, it would go to a judge. They would have to take it to court, to fight for the right to see the children. Would they get it? Dasha had information to discredit them, to argue a more stable environment for them than their erratic father. Yuri knew that more often than not, children ended up with their mother.

He felt the realisation like a blow to the chest, the reality settling in. It was him or the kids.

That was what the lawyer was asking Victor to decide.

And his expression gave nothing away as he stood up from behind his desk. “I recommend you take some time to consider your options.”

* * *

The ride home was silent. Yuuri didn’t dare say a word as Victor drove, as he unlocked the apartment, as they both sat down on the couch with faces drawn and miserable. Neither of them wanted to be the first to break the silence. Neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge the inevitable…

But someone had to.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Victor finally said, voice barely more than a whisper.

Across the couch, Yuuri scrunched his eyes shut tight. It was all he could do to stop them welling with tears, to cling to his composure a little bit longer. “But is it worth risking your kids over?”

Victor’s jaw clenched.

It didn’t need answering.

Yuuri had known. As soon as the lawyer had finished, as soon as he’d advised Victor to weigh up his options… Yuuri had known he wouldn’t be enough. It was Victor’s kids - it was no competition.

It didn’t make the reality any easier though...

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said, voice surprisingly smooth. He guessed he’d prefer that to crumbling to pieces… “It’s oka-”

“No, it’s not okay.”

When Victor looked up, Yuuri was surprised to see the tears swimming there. “It’s not fair…”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, feeling his own eyes grow damp. “No,” he said over the lump stuck in his throat.  _ God, this was hard.  _ “No, it’s not.”

But they had no choice.

It was Yuuri or the kids - Victor had no choice. He had to choose the kids. He  _ had _ to. Yuuri knew how much his children meant to him - if there was even the slightest chance that being with Yuuri would cost him them, he knew what had to be done…

_ It was over _ .

He sucked in a sharp breath, hands clenched so tightly together he heard the bones click. He didn’t care. He had to keep it together.

“Yuuri… I love you...”

He couldn’t keep it together at that.

A hand slapped over his mouth just in time to catch his sob, tears leaking thick and fast down his cheeks. He couldn’t help it - the words he had longed for for ten years, dreamed of,  _ needed  _ … but not like this. Never like this. 

Victor’s hand reached over to his across the couch, but Yuuri flinched away. It was okay. He knew it had to be this way.

They couldn’t be together.

Dasha had won.

“Just…” Yuuri took a deep breath, eyes stinging. “Just tell me why...” He had to know. “Tell me why I wasn’t enough the first time.”

That would be enough. 

If he could at least make peace with that one simple truth, maybe his life didn’t have to fall apart again. He’d survived without Victor once before - he could do it again. For Victor and the kids, he could do it again. 

But he needed to know. 

He didn’t want to waste another ten agonising years wondering what he’d done wrong, what was wrong with him, why the universe didn’t deem him worthy of Victor.

Victor sighed softly, head hanging. Yuuri would have said he was calm if it wasn’t for the white knuckled fists over his thighs betraying him.

“I didn’t know what I wanted then,” he said quietly, voice strangled. “I thought … I thought I wanted something exciting, and wonderful, and so dramatically romantic that I didn’t know if I could survive without it - without  _ them _ … I thought that was what love was...”

Yuuri’s heart choked, balking in his chest -  _ because that had been what Victor had been to him.  _

He’d always been the love of his life.

“I thought to be madly in love was what it meant to love someone. I thought that was how you knew it was real…”

_ It was real _ , Yuuri couldn’t help but think, heart aching in his chest.

“When you moved to Russia with me … when it started to cool down between us…” Victor’s shoulders stiffened. “It wasn’t exciting anymore. It wasn’t love. I thought it was over.”

Victor sucked in a sharp breath. “So I ended it and ran off with the first person who got my pulse racing again,” he finished bitterly.

Yuuri’s chest hurt.

After ten years of wondering, ten years of blaming himself, ten years of guilt and pain… and all because he had been  _ boring _ . 

In a way, he wasn’t surprised. It was very Victor. Victor who delighted in surprising the world, in being the life and soul of everything, shining bright like a star … it made sense that he needed someone as delightful as himself to feel alive. As soon as their spark dimmed, to Victor, it was already dead. 

“Yuuri, no…”

Victor’s voice was heartbreakingly soft and this time, Yuuri didn’t have the strength to pull away as soft hands cupped his cheeks, as gentle thumbs brushed the tears away from under his eyes. Lips pressed against his, kissing soft and lingering. Yuuri didn’t pull away - who knew when he would get another chance?

He tasted salt between their mouths, but a vaguely thought in his head realised that they couldn’t be his tears. Victor had wiped away his tears. He was crying too...

“I was wrong,” Victor breathed, taking Yuuri’s hand and clutching tight over Yuuri’s thigh. “I was young and stupid. I didn’t know what love was.”

Yuuri didn’t resist as Victor’s arms cradled around him, guiding his head to his chest. Victor’s heart was racing, Yuuri listening to the rampant beat behind his breastbone over the sharp rasps of his breathing.

“I want something just like this.” Victor’s arms clenched tighter around him. “I  _ need  _ something like this.”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut against Victor’s shirt, ribs aching though he had no idea if it was from Victor holding him too tight or his heart simply breaking. 

In that moment, he hated him.

Victor couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t have let Yuuri waste away ten years of his life alone and miserable just because their relationship moved out of the honeymoon phase, because Victor had simply gotten a little bored of him… he had  _ hurt _ Yuuri so much for  _ nothing _ …

Yuuri leaned back, feeling the warmth of Victor’s chest drift away from his cheek.  _ It still hurt. _

“Maybe … maybe we should slow down,” Yuuri heard himself say, voice numb. 

Victor’s hands fell away from him.

Yuuri didn’t correct himself.

After all, nothing had changed. They weren’t the raging romance they had been when they’d been young. They were middle aged men now. Hormones and sex had been replaced with comfort and companionship - the same things Victor had gotten bored of before.

Only this time, Victor claimed it was okay. That it was suddenly enough… no, he didn’t get to waste ten years of Yuuri’s life to decide that. 

Yuuri deserved better than that.

“Maybe … maybe we should take a break.”

Like the lawyer wanted. Like what Dasha wanted. Maybe they were right. Maybe - though it hurt like hell - they were giving him the easy way out before things just came crashing down on their own later. If he stayed, Victor might still get bored. He might leave him in another year. He said he wouldn’t, that everything was different… did Yuuri believe him?

_ No _ .

Not really.

Nobody changed that much, even after ten years. He was still Victor. He could still hurt Yuuri more than he could possibly imagine.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Victor run his hands through his hair, watched him fold over and his back bob unmistakably. A part of him wanted to reach out and comfort him. He didn’t - there had been no one to do that for  _ him  _ when the tables had been turned ten years ago.

Yuuri wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Victor finally got up from the couch, disappearing into the bedroom with a disappointing click of the door instead of an enraged slam. Yuuri would have almost preferred Victor’s anger. A fight would make it more bearable, would prove him right, that he was doing the right thing. 

He was still angry. 

Victor’s excuse just wasn’t enough for him. He’d pined for ten years and it had all been for nothing, nothing but Victor’s whimsical fantasy. All that time wasted…

Victor had been his whole life. He’d been obsessed with him when he’d been a teenager, he’d been in love with him when he had been in his twenties, he’d wasted his degree and life after Russia … Victor Nikiforov couldn’t destroy his life again, couldn’t ruin him.

Yuuri didn’t remember deciding to reach for the laptop, but he knew exactly what he was doing once it was open. He went on the jobsite on autopilot, fingers typing on muscle memory for the job that he’d never had the guts to click the ‘apply’ button for over all these years. 

Not this time. 

This time, he wanted more to his life than just Victor Nikiforov. Nikiforov wasn’t going to be the only thing to give him meaning.

* * *

Yuuri was glad when Victor was away the next week. He needed the head space, time to think - time  _ away  _ from Victor. They hadn’t made any rash, hasty decisions since meeting with the lawyer, despite Yuuri’s initial meltdown.

When it came down to it, he understood - he didn’t want to be alone either. He really didn’t.

But between him and the children, Yuuri knew his wants didn’t matter.

_ They  _ mattered.

He hadn’t spoken to Victor since he’d left for his flight days ago, and even that had been a brief kiss on the cheek at the door to see him off. Yuuri might still be around but things weren’t exactly great between him and Victor. He hadn’t gotten a text when Victor had landed. Yuuri hadn’t called him. He knew Victor was okay - he’d seen him on TV with his collection, stony faced on the runway. That was enough for him, and he guessed it was for Victor too.

That was why he was surprised when his phone rang one afternoon.

Nobody called him. 

The cafe was taken care of, Phichit always text, and Victor … well, there was no reason for Victor to call anymore. Yuuri plucked his phone up from the coffee table, frowning at the screen. He was even more confused when he saw it was an unknown number.

Then he remembered the job application - it could be that. 

His heart was in his mouth as his thumb hovered over the ‘answer’ button, nerves getting the better of him. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking that night, a moment of brave madness. He could never do the job he’d applied for - even if he was qualified for it - never. They were probably calling to tell him as much.  _ Thanks, but no thanks. _

Yuuri swallowed thickly - he couldn’t avoid it forever. He answered it, holding the phone up. “H-hello?”

“ _ Yuuri _ ?” 

Yuuri blinked in surprise. “Yura?!” he gasped. That was the last voice he’d expected to hear! “H-how do you have this number?”

_ “Papa made us memorise it i-in case of emergencies.” _

His voice sounded so small, Yuuri’s heart skipping a beat at the very obvious sniffle on the other end of the line. Yura was crying. Yura never cried.  _ Never _ . He had to be the only stubborn four year old that Yuuri had never seen cry in his life!  _ Emergencies _ , he had said  _ …  _ this was an emergency.

The thought had Yuuri’s blood running cold. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, springing to his feet. He couldn’t just  _ sit  _ while the kids were having an  _ emergency. _ “What’s wrong?”

Yura whimpered down the phone.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said quickly, forcing his voice to stay calm. He had to. He didn’t want to freak them out even more. “Just take a deep breath-” He forced himself to take one too. “-and tell me what happened.”

He hoped they were okay. That they weren’t hurt. God, if they were hurt, what would he do? What would  _ Victor  _ do?! He’d go insane, Yuuri already imagining the Russian pacing a divot in the runway with worry, screaming rashly for someone to get him on a plane, screaming at Yuuri for letting it happen-

_ “They’re fighting _ ,” Yura finally said, cutting through Yuuri’s thoughts. His voice was barely more than a whisper, Yuuri straining to hear. “ _ They’re screaming at each other and -and breaking things. I-it’s really scary. Yuuri, I’m scared.” _

Yuuri’s heart balked in his chest. 

He could guess who  _ they  _ were - their mother and Pasha. He could vaguely hear voices in the background down the phone line - not enough to hear what was being said - but enough to catch the muffled sound of shouting. He could only imagine what it must sound like to the children,  _ actually  _ there...

It was the exact reason he hadn’t wanted to let Victor go screaming after Dasha that day she’d taken them away.

He didn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Yuuri said, running his hands through his hair.  _ Oh God, what could he do? _ “I-is Beka with you?”

“ _ Y-yeah.” Sniffle. “We’re hiding upstairs.” _

_ Hiding _ … Yuuri doubled over, angling his phone away so it didn’t catch his sharp inhale. No child should ever have to  _ hide _ , especially in their own mother’s home...

“Okay,” he straightened up, swallowing the lump in his throat. “J-just sit tight…” He scanned around the apartment, heart boxing in his chest. It only got worse when he found what he was looking for, snatching them up from the kitchen counter - Victor’s car keys. “I’m on my way.” 

He had never been so thankful that Victor was so careless with his car keys than in that moment as he toed on his trainers and bolted out the apartment, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He couldn’t hang up. If he hung up and something happened, he would never forgive himself. He had to hear them, to  _ see _ them - just to know they were okay! After that… he had no idea.

His brain hadn’t got to that level yet though as he beeped Victor’s car to life in the garage, slamming the door shut harder than he probably should have. He’d take Victor’s wrath later.

“Where exactly are you?” he asked, strapping on his seat belt.

_ “I-in a cupboard.” _

Yuuri’s hand slipped turning the key in the ignition. “D-did your mother ask you to go there?” His voice sounded ridiculously high pitched.

_ “No, w-we just wanted to get away.” _

Yuuri tried the key again, something primal in his stomach growling as the engine roared to life. He barely glanced around the parking lot before he pulled out, car jerking clumsily. It wasn’t often that Victor let him drive...

“Are you hurt?”

His attention was way too focussed on the call as he drove, weaving through traffic lanes, cutting red lights by the skin of his teeth and only barely caring. 

He should be more concerned. If he got caught driving Victor’s car with the phone in his hand, probably breaking every speed limit there was, he would be in so much trouble, another failure to add to the long list of reasons why Victor should be thinking of leaving him…

He gasped at the thought, chest gripping tight. 

_ “N-no, just scared.” _

Yuuri’s ribcage swelled with his next exhale, air filling his lungs. He forced Victor’s bitter face out of his mind - Victor wasn’t there, couldn’t be there…

Yuuri was there.

“It’s okay,” he said, fingers gripping tight on the steering wheel. “Everything’s okay. Tell me what’s around you. What can you see?”

_ “They’re shouting-” _

“No, not what you can hear.” He sucked in a deep breath, slow and calm. He heard Yura struggle to gasp one in alongside him down the phone line, broken with sniffles. “What can you see? Tell me three things.”

Yuuri listened on autopilot as he drove, brain filtering Yura’s words for nouns and red flags flashing whenever the boy’s voice hitched. It took a lot to concentrate his own breathing too, forcing the air to suck smoothly and silently through his teeth. He had to stay calm. He had to still his racing heart - for the kids’ sake! He wouldn’t help anyone if he fell apart.

It didn’t take long to get to Dasha’s street, mockingly close to their own apartment - like she wanted to be where they could see. She probably did. That was probably her point.

It was Yuuri’s advantage though as he pulled up and slammed the car door behind him, not caring about the haphazard parking on the curb. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered - nothing but the boys on the other end of the phone line.

“It’s okay,” he said to Yura as he jammed his thumb into the doorbell, hearing the shrill sound on the other side of the door. “I’m outside.”

It took four times buzzing before the door finally opened.

He was bigger than Yuuri had imagined.

Yuuri had seen Pasha’s picture in the magazines before, but it hadn’t quite prepared him for the man in real life. The few inches of height he had on Yuuri felt like miles, the way his sleeves strained around his biceps oddly intimidating just… being there. Yuuri felt pathetic in comparison in Victor’s joggers -  _ really, just how lame could he get?! _ \- and a soft cable knit sweater.

Yuuri was suddenly very glad that he hadn’t hung up the line with Yura, phone in his hand by his side and call still connected. It made him feel safer.

“What?” Pasha barked, voice clipped. His accent was strong, the irritated look on his face making him sound even angrier. 

“I-I-”

Yuuri cursed himself, watching Pasha’s eyes narrow while all he could do was stumble-

“I-I’m Yuuri,” he finally forced out. “I live with Victor.” He realised a second too late that it was probably a mistake to tell Pasha who he was. If he knew who he was, he might hate Yuuri as much as Dasha hated Victor, and Yuuri definitely didn’t want to be on the end of that… “Beka forgot his spare inhaler.”

Yuuri thanked God that they always kept a spare in the car - just in case of emergencies. He wasn’t sure what he’d have said otherwise.

He was very aware that he had no business being here.  _ Victor  _ would have had no business being there, let alone Victor’s boyfriend. They had no custody, they had no rights - at least technically, Dasha didn’t either. Yuuri wasn’t breaking any rules as long as he didn’t cause a scene.

What else would he have done? Ignored Yura’s call? Say ‘ _ sorry, kid, I know you’re scared, but deal with it’ _ ? He’d never forgive himself...

Pasha’s eyes narrowed.

_ The stupid moron probably hadn’t even bothered to notice that Beka needed an inhaler in the first place, _ Yuuri couldn’t help but think, anger flooding through his veins when all he did was just  _ stand there _ .

After a moment, the  _ moron _ just held out his hand, palm up. “Okay,” he said, voice slow. Challenging. “I’ll give it to him.”

No way was Yuuri going to fall for that.

His fingers clutched tighter around his phone, jaw gritting. He held Pasha’s eye, refusing to back down. He wasn’t handing over anything. “I’d rather give it to him myself, thanks.”

There was no way he was leaving that house until he’d seen that those kids were okay…

Pasha glared at him for another lingering moment.

For one heart stopping second, Yuuri thought that he might just shut the door in his face. He wasn’t sure what he would do then. Would he scream? Would he shout? How would he explain to Yura that he had come and just … gone away again? The idea made his heart stop, terror flooding through his veins and feeling the colour drain from his face. 

Yuuri flinched when Pasha leaned back from the doorway, ready to stop the door before it could slam shut-

Instead, he hollered over his shoulder. 

Yuuri winced at the roar of Beka’s name, watching Pasha’s knuckles clench white around the doorframe. Now, he understood the kids - he’d be afraid of that voice yelling too now that he had the mental picture to back it up! He didn’t understand the rest of the garbled Russian shouted back into the house, but he didn’t care.

Because moments later, he heard the pitter of tiny running feet, Pasha throwing one last dirty glance over at Yuuri before he slung away from the doorway.

“Oh my God!” 

Yuuri gasped as soon as he saw them, dropping down on his knees and not caring one whit as Yura barrelled into his arms with the force of a rocket. Beka was close behind, lingering a step behind his brother. He looked pale. Yura was still crying, Yuuri feeling the hot tears slip through the fibres of his sweater.

It made his throat go tight as he squeezed Yura one last time before peeling the boy away from his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, raking his wide eyes over the boys. “Are you hurt?”

He couldn’t see any red flags - no blood, no bruises, just … scared. Yuuri could feel Yura trembling slightly still.

He put a brave face on it though, sniffing stubbornly. “W-we’re okay.”

Yuuri’s heart ached.

“Do you want to come home?”

He wasn’t sure what made him say it. He would have to all but kidnap the children to be able to get them away. Dasha would call the police on him the second he’d even suggest it! Maybe if the police could see how distressed the kids were though then maybe they would allow it-

“Is Papa coming to get us?”

Yuuri blinked out of his tirade of thoughts. Even the usual stoic Beka had a hopeful shimmer in his eyes...

He couldn’t take them home, he realised with a sinking heart. Not without Victor, not unless the kids  _ asked _ . Yuuri didn’t dare imagine the trouble Dasha would cause if he did anything less than walk away from their house alone that afternoon, know it would only make things worse - for the kids as well as anyone! He needed peace. They needed to do it right.

Yuuri tried to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest as he searched for the right words to say.

“We’re … we’re working on it.” He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, hating every word he forced out. “Okay? J-just hang in there for a little longer-”

He barely saw the flash of Yura’s eyes go wide before suddenly, they were just ... gone. A blink, and Yuuri’s arms were empty. The boy was ripped right out of his grasp from in front of him, in the space of a second. It happened so fast, leaping to his feet in alarm...

Pasha filled the doorway again, arms folded across his broad chest. His expression was steely. 

“Now,” his chin jerked up. “Fuck off.”

Yuuri’s hands curled into fists at his sides, sucking in a calming breath - it didn’t help much. He had a million things wrong as he pieced together the last few seconds.

Pasha had yanked Yura away from him by the hood of his jacket.

He’d cursed in front of them.

The fact that if Yuuri had been a real pervert or kidnapper or danger to the kids in any way then he could have been a couple of streets away and easily into a getaway car with them by then-

He didn’t have time to decide what he was most outraged by though before Pasha Savchenko was shoving him back  _ hard _ from the doorway, hands like two blocks of iron punching into his chest. He staggered to keep his footing, taking everything in him not to gasp for air as the oxygen knocked sharply out of his lungs. He didn’t want to give Pasha the satisfaction.

His teeth gritted hard as he bared his palms up at that wrecked barbarian, a peaceful gesture. “I didn’t want any trouble.”

He hadn’t.

He did now. Yuuri had never been a violent person but suddenly, he understood Victor’s rage that day that Dasha had dragged the kids away from the apartment. Yuuri didn’t feel his usual fear, the fear he should have felt at being stared down by a man twice his size as he dropped his hands back to his sides again. A part of him wanted nothing more than to land just one punch to Pasha’s stupid face for what he was doing to them.

Over the brute’s shoulder though, he caught the flash of Yura and Beka’s little faces from inside the house - held back by their mother’s arms.

_ Her. _

She stared at him with eyes full of such contempt, such bitterness. Yuuri didn’t want to leave the boy’s behind with negativity like that, with someone with so much hatred… but he had no choice.

He flickered back to Pasha’s glare, eyes narrowing one last time. “I’m leaving,” he said through gritted teeth.

* * *

Yuuri hadn’t been expecting Victor home for another two days when the Russian came storming through the front door of his apartment two days after the  _ incident _ , face red and looking weary like he’d come straight from the airport. Maybe he had. He didn’t have any luggage with him... 

“Victor?” Yuuri started in surprise. He didn’t like the wild look in his eyes. “W-what are you doing here?”

He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He hadn’t even called Yuuri to let him know he was coming back early - which meant it had to be bad. One look at his face confirmed it. 

Victor drew in a shuddering breath before he spoke.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, voice deathly quiet.

It made Yuuri’s blood run cold.

Victor never spoke to him like that - even when things had been bad between them before. There had been fights. There had been anger. There had never been such  _ fierce hatred _ in Victor’s eyes though.

It reminded him of how Dasha had looked at him… 

Yuuri frowned, lips drifting open. “What are you talking about?” 

“Are you trying to sabotage me?! Is that it?” Victor’s eyes were wild, his body visibly shaking. “You want to explain to me why I got a call in Milan about Dasha adding a  _ restraining order _ to her custody deal?”

“A  _ what _ ?!”

Yuuri felt like the ground dropped out beneath him, heart plummeting into his stomach. He must have heard Victor wrong. There was no way-

“You went to their house?!” Victor’s voice quivered with rage. “Threatened her boyfriend? Do you have any idea-” 

“Victor, nothing happened!” Yuuri’s head shook, eyes shooting wide. “I barely even spoke to him-”

“They have footage of you fighting with him in their doorway!”

Yuuri cast his mind back desperately, heart hammering in his chest. He’d never touched Pasha - he’d been sure of it! He’d stayed back, trying to avoid that exact situation even when he’d been itching to land a blow because he’d known what it could cost-

Suddenly, it hit him. 

He remembered Pasha shoving him back from the doorway - and his own arms coming up to protect his chest, not to shove back - just to save his ribs a crack or too. He guessed he’d thrown a little weight into his steps too, trying to stand his ground. He could see how it could have been misunderstood…

His face went white, draining of colour. The scene ran over and over in his head, shifting slightly every time it did. 

Was that right - or had he just convinced himself that it was?

Victor was still rambling though. “....in front of the boys! What were you thinking?! How did you even get there?”

Yuuri felt about an inch tall. “Y-your car.”

“Well, aren’t you just the best role model for my kids,” Victor said snidely, each word cutting like a knife.

Yuuri flinched. 

He didn’t say anything though. What could he say? Victor was right. He was a bad example. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were a bunch of fines on the way in the mail to him for speeding, driving uninsured, possibly jumping a red light or two… he didn’t bring them up. He was in enough trouble as it was.

Because Victor was right.

What judge in their right mind would give kids to a man in Victor’s position - with a boyfriend who met the kids’ mother in his underwear, who basically stole his lover’s car, broke numerous traffic violations to harass the mother’s home and size up against her boyfriend in front of the children! Who would want their kids around a maniac like that?!

Yuuri’s breath hitched, the reality of what he’d done sinking in at last. He never should have gone that day. He should have just called the police to check on them instead of go himself. Why hadn’t he just called the police?

“Don’t you understand what’s at stake here?!” Victor all but screamed, breaths short and ragged. “These are my kids, Yuuri!” His hands slammed down on the dining table, still mercifully between him and Yuuri. “My kids!”

Yuuri staggered back a step, jolting on instinct. He couldn’t help it. The rage in Victor’s eyes, the hard thud of the table under his hands… 

His back hit the wall.

Victor was still shouting, Yuuri blinking fast and feeling the air catch in his lungs. He could only hear the pounding blood in his ears, the rasp of each breath punching through his chest. No, he couldn’t lose it now, feeling his hands curl into fists at his sides and digging his fingernails into the meat of his palms, instinctively starting his deep breath counting in his head.

He’d screwed up. He’d screwed up badly, and he couldn’t take it back, and it might have cost Victor his kids…

_ It was so much worse than last time. _

“You don’t understand…” Victor suddenly rasped, voice suddenly hoarse. Yuuri blinked up at the change of tone, gaze sharpening on Victor loosening his tie across the table and going pale, hands shaking as they ran through his dishevelled hair. “You don’t-I can’t… I just can’t-” 

Victor’s head dropped into his hands, back bobbing. Yuuri watched horrified as pearly drops dripped between Victor’s fingers.

“I can’t lose them, I can’t…. Oh God… I ca-I can’t-”

Yuuri was helpless to watch as Victor staggered back until his feet ran out of floor, blue eyes staring wide and sightless at the ceiling above as he sank down against the nearest wall.

Victor’s chest heaved. 

_ “I can’t breathe-” _

Yuuri’s heart wrenched. 

For a moment, he just stared. Victor was having a panic attack - gasping, and shaking and… looking near insane with his wide eyes and manic hair. His eyes looked terrified. 

A part of Yuuri felt sated as he straightened up off his own wall. Victor had never understood his anxiety in the past. It wasn’t something that was easy to explain and Victor had never made much of an effort to try and  _ get it _ . Now though… Yuuri would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t  _ glad _ to see Victor fight to breathe, to watch him go through what he’d just pretended wasn’t a problem with Yuuri for so long…

As soon as he thought it though, he hated himself for it. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his own anxieties forgotten in that moment. 

Victor wasn’t a monster anymore.

Yuuri didn’t think he’d ever seen the man more vulnerable…

His legs felt numb as they walked slowly over to Victor, sinking to his knees beside the Russian. He didn’t feel triumphant anymore, or satisfied, or guilty, or afraid… he just felt sad.

He knew there wasn’t much he could say. People always told him to just breathe - like he didn’t know that already! He didn’t want to say it to Victor. 

Instead, he just reached out, teasing Victor away from the wall and slipping him into his waiting arms. Victor sank boneless into Yuuri’s embrace, a gasping shuddering mess. Yuuri just held him carefully, feeling every breath jolt through him as it tore through Victor, fingers sinking into Victor’s greasy silver locks.

“It’s going to be okay,” he simply said, eyes hardening as they stared over Victor’s head at nothing. “I promise, it’s all going to be okay.”

_ Somehow. _


	7. Chapter 7

Yuuri watched the steam dance through the air as it rose up from his teacup, letting himself be hypnotised by the delicate patterns. It helped distract him. And,  _ God _ , did he need the distraction…

That was why he’d agreed to meet up with Phichit in the first place. 

His best friend sat across the table from him in the cafe, nursing a mug of hot coffee and prattling on about the new house, about the dog, about Seung-gil - Yuuri had stopped listening after a while, but Phichit’s voice was still nice to listen to all the same. Yuuri found it strangely calming. 

It only just chased away the horrible thoughts that had taunted his mind the last few days. He still had nightmares about Victor’s panic attack. It took everything in him not to try and call Dasha’s house to check on the kids. He didn’t dare contact the lawyer about how the case was shaping up. Not after what he’d done, not after how much he’d screwed up. He couldn’t show his face there again. He certainly couldn’t look Victor square in the eye either-

His phone buzzed aggressively on the table top, vibrating violently as the incoming call rang through it.

Yuuri glanced over at the screen…

...and promptly turned it over.

“Ignoring him won’t help, you know,” Phichit mumbled, glancing at Yuuri through his eyelashes as he sipped his coffee

Yuuri hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped talking.

He just pursed his lips together, shifting guiltily in his seat. “Depends on who you want to help...”

Yuuri wanted to give Victor space. That had been what Victor had wanted after all, right? He couldn’t stay with Yuuri if he wanted his kids back - and there was no competition between him and them, Yuuri knew that. He’d suggested a break and Victor hadn’t argued. That was where it had been heading anyway, surely - a permanent break.

They hadn’t said it in so many words, but Yuuri knew it was inevitable. It had to be. It was the only way to guarantee Victor would get to see his kids again.

“He asked you to go, did he?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri blew gently over his tea, eyes blank. “No,” he sipped. “But I have to.”

And he had.

The morning after Victor’s panic attack, they’d gotten ready for work as usual, Victor’s face still ashen as he’d straightened his tie and mumbled a goodbye as he’d slipped out the door.

Yuuri hadn’t immediately followed. 

He didn’t end up leaving for another hour - after a startling moment of clarity had helped him pack a bag of essentials, post his pair of keys through the letterbox, and check himself into a nearby hotel room. It was time. It was the only way. It had to happen.

Victor had called him that evening when dusk had slipped into darkness and Yuuri still hadn’t come home.

Yuuri hadn’t answered.

He still wasn’t answering.

“Does he even know where you are?” Phichit pressed. “He could report you as missing, you know. Then you’d have police to deal with too!”

Yuuri’s inner mind flickered with a smirk - he knew what Phichit was up to. Playing to his anxiety to try and slyly convince him to go back, that the running away was even more frightening than going back. It was a low blow, something he hadn’t expected from Phichit.

He guessed his friend must be desperate…

On the surface though, all Yuuri did was sigh. “No, he wouldn’t,” he said, sad but sure. “He knows what this is.”

They both knew what needed to be done - Yuuri was just the first one to actually do something about it.

Across the table though, Phichit’s head just crooked. “Does he though?”

Yuuri could feel the judgement in his friend’s eyes, saying the things he knew Yuuri wouldn’t want to hear aloud. 

For once though, Yuuri didn’t need anyone’s support to be confident in his decision. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if it hurt him - even if it hurt Victor! It would be worth it when Victor got the kids back...

“If I do this,” Yuuri said, shoulders bobbing in a weak shrug. He felt numb. “Then it saves him from having to choose.”

* * *

Yuuri passed the days in his hotel room. He didn’t dare go to work - he knew it was the one place Victor could reliably find him if he wanted to, just like he had after his divorce. So he’d checked out all his holiday allowance and just … hid. Like a coward…

He wasn’t proud of it. 

There wasn’t much to be proud of as he watched the fuzzy TV and ate takeout food that he could practically feel clogging his arteries by the bite, curtains drawn and phone switched off. 

It only had to last another few weeks. In another week or two, Victor would have his court case and he would be too busy with winning his children back to care about finding Yuuri. That was what Yuuri wanted after all - to do the right thing for everyone, even if it hurt.

He tried to pass the time studying for his job interview. He still hadn’t quite believed it when they’d called him in for one at the end of that week, but it had happened.  _ Him _ . 

He was absolutely bricking it. 

He hadn’t done a proper job interview in his whole life - not since his university application and that was way over a decade ago now. Everything was surely going to be harder now, more competitive. He didn’t stand a chance…

He wasn’t quite brave enough to call and cancel though. In a way it was a good distraction. Studying for interview technique and practice questions had helped distract him at least, even if it was also stressing him out up to the eyeballs. It was a nice idea, he thought. The idea of getting the job he had studied so hard towards, of earning enough money that he wouldn’t have to desperately rely on flat sharing with Phichit or Victor because it was the only way he could afford the rent… it would be nice to get some control back over his life. 

_ But if he couldn’t…  _

Maybe he would go back to Japan again - for good, this time. Take over his parents inn, like he’d been supposed to do.

He sighed, tipping his head back against the headboard of the bed. His dull eyes glazed up at the ceiling. He had never imagined this was how his life would have turned out ten years ago…

His stomach twitched in his belly, but Yuuri just grimaced, stretched his legs out on the bed. He wasn’t hungry - he was just restless. He’d been locked up all day and he was bored of seeing the same four walls, of reading the same interview questions on the internet over and over again. He needed a change of scenery. He needed a break.

His joints clicked as he nudged the laptop off his lap and stood, slipping his shoes on and feeling the muscles in his legs start to wake up from the movement. He felt tired behind his eyes - perhaps some sunlight would make them feel alive again too? 

His fingers felt numb as they opened the door and pulled it shut behind him, spare hand already dug deep in his pocket to make sure the key card was still-

Yuuri froze.

Because down the hallway was Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath, heart beating faster in his chest. A part of him wanted to grab his key card and dash back to hide in his room again while he still could… but he  _ couldn’t… _

He just kept staring into those wide blue eyes that stared right back at him, Victor’s mouth hovering slightly open. Yuuri could see the cogs whirring behind his eyes, could see him thinking of what to say. Any hope that he was here by coincidence went right out of the window.

Finally though, after a silent moment, Victor picked up his jaw. He licked his lips nervously.

“I’ve decided.”

_ He  _ sounded  _ nervous,  _ Yuuri thought, trying to ignore his own rabbiting heartbeat. “D-decided what?” 

_ It was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid! _

He knew how it had to be, but he didn’t want to hear it outloud. He didn’t want to hear the pity in Victor’s voice, the  _ apologies _ , the guilt, to hear Victor break up with him all over again even though he knew it was what was for the best for those sweet children …

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, feeling his palms start to get clammy. He was rooted to the spot. 

Victor’s eyes glistened. “I want to set a good example for my kids.” 

Yuuri felt his heart drop out of his stomach. 

There was something in Victor’s eyes; something mournful, something so sad that Yuuri felt it sting just looking at him… he sucked in a far from steady breath, bracing himself.

_ It was coming. _

“I love my kids more than anything in the world...”

Yuuri curled and uncurled his hands into fists at his sides, trying to distract himself.

“But I don’t want them to look at me and…” Victor sucked a sharp breath. “And think that it’s okay to just give up on what matters to you just because it isn’t easy. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.”

_ ‘It’s not fair…’  _

Yuuri remembered when Victor had said those words before, when they had first found out about Dasha’s custody filing. He remembered the look in Victor’s eyes.

It was staring back at him again now.

Anger, pain, fear - all rolled into one fierce, determined gaze that all but took Yuuri’s breath away. He so desperately wanted to lose himself in it, to fall into Victor’s embrace and never come up for air again. 

They’d been facing the reality that it was over when Victor had said those words before.

_ But now? _

Yuuri held his breath.

“And if…” Victor’s voice cracked. Suddenly, he looked very pale. “If I lose…” he cleared his throat stiffly, hands curling into tight fists at his sides. “I would have tried my best, fighting for what I believe in. I hope…” Victor swallowed thickly. “I hope they would see that.”

Yuuri didn’t let go of his breath.

He didn’t dare. If he breathed, it might shatter the illusion, that one blissful moment before everything fell apart and reality came crashing down.

For one second, he could tell himself everything was okay again…

“I can’t do this without you, Yuuri.”

_ The moment couldn’t last forever though.  _

Yuuri shuddered as Victor gasped in a shaky breath across the corridor, feeling it rip through him too. 

“Please,” Victor’s eyes glittered. “Say something.”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut.

He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say yes, he so desperately wanted to say yes! - but how could he when he knew his mere presence could ruin the chances of the children coming home. For their sake as much as Victor’s, he had chosen to stay away. He still remembered how terrified the boys had sounded that day on the phone, the bright spark of fear in their eyes before they’d been ripped away…

His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, heart heavy in his chest. As much as he appreciated Victor’s sentiment, he wasn’t sure it justified risking the result.

“Can I think about it?” 

It wasn’t a no. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure he could bear saying no - actually saying it! Ending him and Victor officially forever… a part of him would probably always love Victor too much to hurt him like that, even if it was the right thing to do.

But it wasn’t a yes.

Yuuri couldn’t just come back like nothing had happened.  _ Everything  _ had happened, and whether it was right or not - it had been because of him.

Victor though, looked ashen. “Y-yeah.”

He was scarily pale, so white he looked like a ghost and for the first time, Yuuri noticed how he swayed a little on the spot. There were dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time Victor had slept or eaten? His hair looked limp, like it hadn’t been washed in a few days.

Yuuri guessed he hadn’t given much thought to how Victor would really take losing the only person he’d had left, even if it had been for the right reasons…

“I never stopped loving you, you know,” slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

He watched Victor’s eyes glow wide.

A heartbeat later though, they shattered. “I-I know-”

Yuuri didn’t wait to watch the tears willing in Victor’s eyes to fall, throwing his arms around his neck and clinging to him tight. After a moment, he felt Victor’s arms wrap around his waist, wetness catching behind Yuuri’s ear as Victor buried his face in his hair.

Together or not, they would always be connected, Yuuri thought. Victor was just too important; his first inspiration, his first love, his first heartbreak. He was entwined in Yuuri’s whole life.

A part of him felt comforted feeling Victor’s heartbeat between them, like it was exactly where it was supposed to be.

Maybe when it was all over, they could try again...

“How did you find me?”

For a moment, Victor stiffened. Yuuri almost didn’t think that he would answer, until- 

“Phichit.”

Yuuri smiled into Victor’s shoulder. “Phichit…”

* * *

It was still on Yuuri’s mind as he sat in a fancy reception later in the week, dressed in his best suit and laptop in his satchel on his lap. It helped stop his leg bobbing with nerves.

The weird thing though, was that the nerves weren’t for the interview.

He hadn’t decided what to do about Victor.

He’d stopped hiding at least. He was still staying in the hotel - not quite ready to face moving back into Victor’s apartment - but was replying to Victor’s messages when they came. He’d accompanied Victor to his last meeting with his lawyer. He served Victor on the odd day Victor brought some of his meetings to the cafe for coffee instead of at the studio. 

He didn’t have a clue what they were, what they were heading to… but for now, Yuuri could look at Victor and it didn’t hurt.

That had to be  _ something _ good, at least...

Yuuri’s phone buzzed, digging it out of his suit pocket. 

_ Victor: Court date is next Friday _

_ Victor: Not that you have to come if you don’t want to _

_ Victor: I just thought you might want to know... _

Yuuri’s heart ached. Of course, he wanted to know. 

_ Yuuri: Thanks _

_ Yuuri: Do you want me to come? _

He wasn’t sure where the boundaries were anymore.

Victor’s reply was instant though.

_ Victor: Yes _

_ Yuuri: Then I’ll be there _

Yuuri watched the little dots bounce and dance for a few minutes before any reply actually came through, just imagining Victor on the other end of the phone typing and deleting over and over again, not knowing what to say.

When it came through though, Yuuri could practically hear the choked off gasp behind it.

_ Victor: Thank you _

Yuuri had to blink fast to keep his composure, suddenly noticing how damp his eyes were. He needed to get a grip. He needed to  _ concentrate.  _ He was supposed to be going into his interview and giving a presentation  _ any minute- _

A door opened. 

“Mr Katsuki?”

Yuuri jerked his head up, catching the eyes of the smiling woman with small, round glasses striding into the lobby, her hand already open.

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath.

It was time. 

* * *

Yuuri hadn’t been prepared for the amount of press waiting outside the courthouse as their car pulled up, chest going tight and breaths sharpening. Beside him, Victor stiffened. It took everything in Yuuri to fight the urge to loosen his tie, knowing that as soon as the car door opened every waiting camera would catch it on print and sell it to the first tabloid newspaper looking for gossip.

He would make Victor look weak. He would make Victor look uncertain. He couldn’t possibly do that to him. He forced himself to sit on his hands while Victor composed himself beside him, sucking in slow, deep breaths.

After a moment, Victor pulled Yuuri’s hand free from under his thigh, curling his fingers tightly around his.

“You ready?” he asked.

Yuuri’s throat went dry – surely, he should be the one asking Victor that! The man was about to face a judge, fight for his kids, no guarantee of success...

Victor’s eyes were firm as they met his though, solid with determination. Today, he didn’t need care.

Yuuri nodded stiffly, lump in his throat. “Y-yeah.”

He wasn’t used to the press. Even when he and Victor had first broken up that decade ago at the height of their success, the media had still been far more interested in Victor in the whole affair than Yuuri - especially with how fast Victor had moved on! Yuuri had been spared the worst of it.

Yuuri wasn’t sure exactly how the reporters had found out about Victor’s court date but he had his suspicions - Dasha always liked a show, after all. She’d made a fortune flaunting her and Victor together in front of cameras when they’d first gotten married. He could imagine she would want her victory sealed in the press too, to make sure as many cameras could catch her defeat of Victor Nikiforov as possible.

They were louder than Yuuri had expected when Victor finally opened the car door and stepped out. Yuuri followed.

“Mr Nikiforov!”

“Are you confident about your chances?”

“Is it true you cheated on Ms Lebedeva?”

“Are you in a relationship with Mr Katsuki?”

Yuuri kept his head down under the barrel of questions that exploded around them, eyes fixed on the ornate court doors at the top of the steps Victor was pulling him up. His hand stayed clenched tight around Yuuri’s.  _ That would be in the pictures _ , Yuuri couldn’t help but think with a gasp. 

He was glad he’d worn his best suit - a new one from Victor, handmade for him, with his favourite shade of his now signature baby blue stitched in delicate lines into the fabric. Yuuri guessed his wearing of it showed as much support for Victor as their entwined hands did.

He just hoped it would all pay off...

Inside the courthouse - thankfully! - was peaceful. Yuuri half expected Victor to drop his hand as soon as they were inside, to go off and find his lawyer who was supposed to already be there and brace himself for what was to come in his own way…

Victor didn’t let go.

“Do- do you want me to wait here?” Yuuri squeaked from behind when Victor kept pulling across the lobby. “I don’t mind. I’ll understand…”

He would. It was Victor’s kids and if Victor wanted to focus on fighting one battle at a time, Yuuri would completely understand. It was part of the reason that despite standing by Victor’s side, Yuuri still hadn’t agreed to formally resume their relationship yet. He was there for support - not to stir up more drama where it didn’t need to be.

Victor squeezed his hand tighter though, his then flawless stride faltering slightly. Yuuri noticed. 

Half a beat later, Victor stopped entirely.

He looked paler than before as he turned around, Yuuri’s hand falling out of his grip as he cupped his shoulders instead. His fingers dug in tight, creasing groves into Yuuri’s suit.

Victor’s eyes bore into Yuuri’s. “Stay with me.”

It was like a plea - firm, but oh-so desperate at the same time. Yuuri could see in Victor’s eyes how badly he was fighting for control, but how he was ready to shatter at any moment. 

He couldn’t do this alone.

Yuuri reached up, grabbing a steadying fistful of Victor’s suit sleeve in return, not caring about the lingering glances that passed them by.

_ Except for two. _

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri caught two tiny suited figures across the lobby, disappearing down the corridor with a firm hand on their backs from their mother and Pasha bringing up the defensive rear. The boys’ eyes looked lost. Did they even know what was going on? Yuuri’s heart ached for them. They shouldn’t be anywhere near this…

He snapped back to Victor’s eyes, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “I’m with you.”

_

Yuuri sat on his hands in the courtroom, pinching the side of his thigh under the table to stop himself fidgeting with nerves. There might not be any cameras in the courtroom, but there was no guarantee there wasn’t a journalist somewhere in the gallery taking notes for a juicy story for the media. 

More than that though, he didn’t want the kids to see him nervous. They were sat in the first row of the gallery behind their mother, Pasha sat between them and the end of the bench.

_ Like a bodyguard _ , Yuuri couldn’t help but think with a heavy heart.

The slam of the gavel brought him back to the present. 

“Let’s begin,” said the judge from the bench.

A female judge, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice and feel his gut twist. Would she side more with Dasha? He knew in principle it shouldn’t matter, but a part of him wasn’t so naive to think that it couldn’t make a difference...

“We’re here to see a custody hearing between Ms Lebedeva and Mr Nikiforov, with the addition of a restraining order request against Mr Nikiforov.”

Yuuri fought the urge to wince.

The idea that Victor not only wouldn’t have any rights to see his children, but that he would be forced to never be near them again  _ and that the children would know it _ was just … impossible to consider. Yuuri couldn’t imagine how Victor must have felt, hearing it.

“Let’s begin with the custody,” the judge said, righting her glasses. “Ms Lebedeva, you are asking for full custody with Mr Nikiforov having no visiting rights. Could you please explain your reason for this request?”

Dasha’s lawyer stood, straightening his waistcoat. He looked confident. “Certainly, your honour.” 

Yuuri chanced a glance across the courtroom at Dasha, unable to help himself. He wasn’t expecting the vicious glare that met him when their eyes locked though, fighting the urge to flinch at the ferocity in her gaze. Why? He couldn’t understand why she hated him so much.

“Mr Nikiforov has been exposing the children to inappropriate behaviour in recent months, which Ms Lebedeva believes has a negative impact on their wellbeing.”

“Inappropriate behaviour?” the judge pressed, pencil thin eyebrow arching.

“Specifically, Mr Nikiforov’s boyfriend.”

Yuuri froze.

He felt eyes turn to him - Victor, the lawyers, Dasha’s, the kids - the judge was the worst though. Yuuri didn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t even turn his head, paralysed staring at Dasha’s bench as he felt all the eyes and all their judgements bear into him.

After a tense moment-

“Go on,” the judge said stiffly.

Dasha’s lawyer went on.

“Mr Katsuki was introduced to the children wearing nothing but his underwear, moved into the family home after only a few months of dating Mr Nikiforov, and recently came to my client’s home to threaten her partner, Mr Savchenko in front of the childre-”

Yuuri felt like he was going to be sick.

He felt the judge’s eyes screw deeper into him with every new accusation, heart plummeting.  _ That was it _ , he thought, numb dread settling in his stomach. It was over. The judge would take Dasha’s side, if the glare she was currently shooting his way was anything to go by. He’d just lost Victor his children. He’d-

“Mr Katsuki, is that true?” the judge asked, tone frosty. “That you threatened Mr Savchenko?”

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak.

His ears rang, a lump lodged in his throat, and he felt like he was sweating as he stood shakily, unable to meet the judge’s eye. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“I-I didn’t threaten him-”

“Your honour, we have it on tape.”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut, Dasha’s lawyers words seeming to bounce around his skull mockingly even after he’d finished speaking. He didn’t dare look at the screen he knew to be on the courthouse wall. He couldn’t bear to see it again, how stupid he’d been…

He remembered how bad it had looked when Victor’s lawyer had shown them the footage, counting in his head until he knew it was nearly over.

“Hmm,” the judge hummed, Yuuri taking that as his cue that it was safe to look up again. An unimpressed glare was waiting for him. “Looks like a minor altercation, Mr Katsuki. I assume that is the reason for the restraining order?” She glanced over to Dasha’s bench. 

“Yes, your honour,” the lawyer nodded.

Yuuri just sucked in a deep breath. 

He’d blown it. He’d officially blown it. He knew the video wasn’t accurate but it was still pretty damning. He could feel Victor’s eyes glowing at him, feel the nerves bleeding from the Russian. It was their worst nightmare unfolding right in front of them...

“I only went there because they asked me,” he said quietly, just glad that his voice stayed steady.

He wanted to stay strong - for Victor.

Yuuri heard Dasha’s scoff all the way across the courtroom though, not stupid enough to glance over and see her distain a second time. 

“We did not  _ ask _ you to come to our home!” she half shrieked. “How dare you-”

“Not you,” Yuuri snapped, surprising himself at the sharpness in his voice. He took another breath before he went on, watching out of his peripheral. “The children.”

Across the room, Dasha visibly stiffened.

Then, it suddenly dawned on him - they knew nothing about the phone call! Yuuri rolled his mind back to that day, trying to remember if he’d ever mentioned it at the time - no, he hadn’t. He’d made up the story about the inhaler as the reason he’d come over. They had no idea the children had phoned a distress call.

Yuuri choked on air as he realised, heart soaring with hope. 

“T-they called me from a cupboard while Ms Lebedeva and Mr Savchenko were having an argument,” he rambled before anybody else could. “They were scared.”

The judge’s eyes flashed wide. “In a  _ cupboard?!” _

“They were hiding,” Yuuri clarified quickly.

“This is ridiculous!” Dasha huffed, waving her arm wildly at the accusation and hair whipping around her with the sharp turns of her head. “They don’t even have a phone!” 

“Yes, they do,” Victor piped up, eyes suddenly shining bright. He stood slowly as all eyes turned in his direction and cleared his throat. “I gave Otabek one in case of emergencies.”

Yuuri gasped a breathless smile as Victor caught his eye, both sharing the same shred of hope in that moment. Dasha’s accusations were starting to unravel.

“Mr Katsuki,” the judge turned back to Yuuri, drawing his attention again. Her expression was stern. “If you believed the children were in danger, why didn’t you call the police?”

It was a fair question.

The back of Yuuri’s neck burned with embarrassment, knowing his face was probably going red. It sounded so obvious in hindsight. He should have just called the police that day. As it was-

“I didn’t …” His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “I didn’t think they were in danger as such,” he said carefully. It was one thing to get custody - it was something else to accuse Dasha of child abuse! He wanted what was best for the children, not to ruin her life. He wasn’t going to stoop to their level. “They were scared,” he said simply. “I panicked. I just wanted to see that they were okay.”

He wished he had handled things better that day. Victor wouldn’t have had to fly home in a rage. Perhaps they would have been able to settle the whole affair out of court after all if he hadn’t pushed the boundaries. Maybe there would have been more hope for his and Victor’s future if they hadn’t had that argument... 

“I see,” the judge said, tone clipped.

Yuuri had no idea what it meant.

“Your honour,” Victor’s lawyer stood, finally speaking up.  _ Less is more _ , he’d told them. Yuuri was starting to understand where he was coming from. “I would also like it known that when the children saw Mr Katsuki in his underwear it was only because Ms Lebedeva brought them back to Mr Nikiforov’s home three hours earlier than their agreement without first informing Mr Nikiforov. He woke up, walked out, the door was open - an honest mistake.”

_ As it had been.  _

Dasha had conveniently neglected to mention those crucial details, too busy trying to frame Victor as an irresponsible parent.

“And the moving in?” the judge asked.

Yuuri shrunk up at that one. He didn’t want to have to admit that he hadn’t been able to afford his flat without Phichit at the time, that without Victor letting him move in he would have been homeless. He didn’t want people to know how pathetic he’d been back then…

He dug his nails subtly into his thighs where his arms hung by his sides, distracting himself. He wouldn’t say it.

If Victor had to though…

Yuuri caught the apology flash in Victor’s eyes a second before he stood up beside his lawyer. His heart sank.

“Your honor,” Victor said, voice quiet and serious. Yuuri braced himself. “Yuuri isn’t…”  _ Here it comes,  _ Yuuri thought, pressing his eyes shut. He was sure he’d feel the sting of rejection all the same without seeing it. “Just …  _ some boyfriend  _ to me.”

Yuuri opened his eyes - that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. 

He’d been prepared for something more along the lines of ‘isn’t moved in permanently’ or ‘is just a favour’, or perhaps even something else even more degrading…

But ‘isn’t just some boyfriend’... Yuuri hadn’t been prepared for that. It took his breath away.

Even more so when Victor caught his eye again, those crystal eyes all but molten with affection.

“We nearly married once,” Victor went on, lips painfully soft around the words. Yuuri had the impulsive urge to kiss him, right there and then. “I trust him with my life. I trust him with my children.”

Yuuri let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding, blinking fast out of instinct until he realised that his eyes were damp.

It was the closest thing to an  _ ‘I love you’  _ as they’d gotten this time around. 

Victor’s lips quirked in a small, encouraging smile, but the look in his eyes said more than anything. Yuuri had known Victor for a long time. He knew who he was. Flawed, yes - impulsive, dreamy, extra to the point of needy … but they all meant that he wore his heart on his sleeve, honest to a fault for better or worse. 

He meant it. Yuuri could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice - he meant it. It was the kind of confession that he’d waited over a decade for...

The judge’s voice shattered the illusion though.

“Ms Lebedeva,” she said, turning to Dasha. “Why are you asking for a restraining order against Mr Nikiforov when  _ Mr Katsuki _ seems to be the one you have a complaint with?”

Yuuri didn’t miss the way Dasha’s lip pursed at the question, an angry red blush tinting her cheeks.

It was a detail he hadn’t noticed until that point.

“He’s allowing that man to influence my children,” she all but spat, voice trembling with rage. “It’s not right.”

“Not right?”

Dasha’s lawyer leaned over to his client, muttering something too quiet for Yuuri to hear, but the way Dasha waved him away was impossible to misinterpret.

“The two of them,” she said straight-faced, causing a ripple over her lawyer’s until-then cool facade. “It’s not like me and Pasha. It’s not normal.”

“Because they are two men?”

“Yes.”

Yuuri looked over to Victor, trying to ignore the way his heart quickened and gauge Victor’s reaction.

They had discussed a contingency plan for in case Dasha might play the homophobia card - revealing that they weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t one either of them wanted to choose - not least because it hadn’t been the way they’d wanted the kids to find out - but they had discussed it nevertheless. If that was what it took to win the kids back, they would make their break permanent.

Whatever warmth had spread through Yuuri just minutes ago from that loving look now chilled, dread settling thick and fast in his stomach.

He waited for Victor to say something.

Would he say something?

It was his choice - it was for his kids... 

Victor’s jaw clenched tight, Yuuri’s heart skipping a beat as he noticed a nerve jump - but he didn’t say anything.

Yuuri wasn’t brave enough to breathe a sigh of relief just yet though…

The judge leaned forward on her bench, resting on her folded forearms. “You are aware that homosexual couples have the same rights as hetrosexual couples in this courtroom, Ms Lebedeva?” 

Dasha stayed silent.

Yuuri’s breath caught.

“Mr Nikiforov,” the judge turned to Victor. “You seem like a very capable parent on paper. You have a steady income, a stable home, and you seem like a reasonable man in person.” Her eyes wandered over in Yuuri’s direction. “You too, Mr Katsuki.”

The blood was pounding so loud in Yuuri’s ears that he was sure he’d misheard. The judge that had leveled him with such a stern look for half the court case now calling him reasonable, like a compliment. He blinked in surprise. But what did it mean? The softening before the fatal blow?

_ Or could it really be- _

“Ms Lebedeva, I am dismissing your restraining order request on lack of grounds. In fact, your whole case seems to be based around a targeted defamation of character of Mr Nikiforov and Mr Katsuki and it makes me question your judgement. The fact that the children phoned Mr Katsuki -  _ as an emergency _ \- whilst they were in your care tells me a great deal!”

Yuuri held his breath, hardly daring to believe his own ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Victor’s chest swell with a silent gasp, lips lingering apart as they waited.

He bet Victor’s heart had all but stopped with anticipation.

The judge straightened up behind the bench, her expression blank and unreadable as her fingers closed around the handle of the gavel.

“I therefore grant Mr Nikiforov full custody with immediate effect, with Ms Lebedeva to have supervised visits only at Mr Nikiforov’s discretion until a social services evaluation can be arranged.”

Yuuri heard a whimper choke out from Victor’s direction, the older man staggering an unsteady step.

“To be reviewed in three months,” the judge went on. “Mr Nikiforov,” Victor’s head snapped up from where he’d folded over to brace his hands on the desk for support. Yuuri couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of a small cross over the judge's lips as she caught Victor’s eye. “You can take your children and go.”

The slam of the gavel echoed in Yuuri’s ears, the verdict ringing through the courtroom. Yuuri hardly dared believe it.

_ They’d won. _

Yuuri reached for the nearest solid surface to hold onto, suddenly lightheaded. He pinched the back of his wrist to be sure - but, no! It wasn’t a dream.

They had really done it!

He looked up to Victor, sure that if he was feeling weak kneed with happiness then Victor had to be nearly ready to pass out! Bright blue eyes met him, blinking round and dumb with surprise. They were swimming dangerously, tear tracks already glistening on the Russian’s cheeks. Despite it all though, he met Yuuri’s eye with the same breathless delight Yuuri knew must be on his own face, suspended with disbelief.

It was hard to believe that all the weeks of heartache were over. All the nights of crying to sleep, and long lawyer meetings, and the  _ too quiet  _ because there were no children in the apartment to bring it to life like it should be… it was finally over.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri spun around just in time to see Yuri dart through Pasha’s legs across the courtroom, quick as lightning.

He didn’t stop to think - he just dropped to his knees and opened his arms wide. Yuri bowled into him, launching himself into Yuuri’s arms and knocking them back into the benches behind, Yuuri not caring one whit as Yuri’s arms wrapped around his neck in a irontight grip.

He just hugged the boy back as hard as he dared, blinking fast to keep his eyes dry. He didn’t do a very good job.

Over Yuri’s shoulder though, he caught sight of Dasha.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Perhaps a part of him had been ready for hysteria and rage - but the ashen faced devastation hadn’t been it. Dasha sank into the nearest chair, looking faint.

Yuuri’s heart twanged with sympathy. 

He knew Dasha loved her children, he’d never doubted that. She’d just gotten blindsighted with trying to get back at Victor.

It didn’t sit well with him that they’d inflicted the same distraught she’d condemned Victor too when she’d taken the kids away. He’d seen first hand how much it hurt. He’d  _ felt  _ it. But he knew there was nothing they’d done wrong to deserve it. This though… Dasha had chosen her path. She’d brought it upon herself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri caught Victor swallow Beka in his arms beside them, the older boy as composed as ever.

Yuuri just clutched close to little Yuri, committing the weight of him in his arms to memory. 

“I told you he’d come get you,” he said into Yuri’s hair. 

* * *

“How about that vacation we talked about next week?” Victor said as they walked out the courthouse, Otabek in his arms and Yuri in Yuuri’s. He was smiling again. It had finally sunk in. “I think we’ve earned it.”

Yuuri had missed seeing Victor smile. 

Still, he pressed his lips together, taking each step down to the sidewalk slowly and carefully. “Can’t next week.” 

Now, he was excited. 

He’d been holding onto his own secret. It hadn’t been the right time to tell Victor before - when he’d been busy fighting for his children - but now… now there was nothing to stop him. Hell, Victor might even be  _ happy  _ for him if he was really the man that Yuuri thought he was, if he really cared about Yuuri rather than only interested because Yuuri’s world revolved around him…

Yuuri took a deep breath, not brave enough to look over as he said it. “I start my new job.”

Victor stopped in his tracks. 

_ Moment of truth, _ Yuuri thought, pausing a step ahead and holding his breath. Would Victor be happy for him or was he only interested when Yuuri  _ needed _ him in his life?

He’d understand both, even if he would be disappointed in one. Neither one of them were perfect. They’d both been young and stupid in the past. 

Now though, it was time to grow up.

He glanced back over his shoulder when Victor still didn’t say anything, heart in his mouth. Victor’s expression was frozen. Yuuri could see the cogs whirring behind his eyes, glittering with glee and lips fighting to twitch into a smile but not sure yet. “You what?”

_ That was a good sign. _

Yuuri stepped back up a step, standing level with Victor again. 

“I took your advice,” he said, straightening Victor’s tie with his spare hand not hitching Yuri on his hip. “I applied for a graduate position… and I got it.” Yuuri could feel his eyes shining when he looked up, unable to hide his own excitement. “I start Monday- _ ah _ !”

Yuuri had barely finished getting his words out before Victor’s spare arm wound around his shoulders and pulled him in tight, crushing him to his chest. A shaky exhale breathed down his neck.

“I am  _ so,”  _ Victor’s voice cracked, Yuuri feeling the curve of his grin against the side of his neck. “ _ So _ proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how actual court custody stuff works. Internet research only goes so far and I wasn't willing to ask my mum for the sake of fanfiction.  
Please don't hate me if it's not like this.  
Use your *waves hand through the air* IMAGINATION


	8. Chapter 8

The wedding reception was in full swing. Music was loud from the dance floor, but nobody was really on it yet - everyone was watching the two grooms cut the cake at the other end of the room instead, taking pictures, cheering, champagne glasses being handed around and raised in toast to the happy couple…

Yuuri stood on the outskirts of the scene across the room, arms folded loosely across his middle as he watched with a soft smile on his face.

He was happy for Phichit.

It had been a delightful day. Seung-gil’s new husky had been the ring bearer and had needed fetching from halfway down the aisle after getting distracted by a guest, Yuuri had been best man on Phichit’s side, Phichit had updated his relationship status on social media to married while the ink on the marriage certificate was still drying… it had all been wonderful, even if it had been a little bittersweet for Yuuri. 

Still, he’d kept Phichit in order, his speech had gone smoothly, and luckily Phichit hadn’t been too judgemental about him bringing Victor as his plus one.

“Drink?” Victor offered, saddling up beside him with a spare glass in hand.

Yuuri took it gratefully. “Thank you.”

The suits were impeccable. Victor had volunteered to dress the grooms and their entourage as his wedding gift to them and had decked them out in glorious bespoke jackets, the intricate red and gold waistcoat doing wonders for Phichit’s skin tone. Yuuri’s pale grey suit was - as always - tailored with his signature baby blue in delicate details along the sharp lines.

Yuuri had wondered if Victor’s offer for a wedding gift was just a thinly veiled excuse to get to design clothes for Yuuri again…

He had refused any more trips to the studio since the last one, even after the success of the last collection designed with him in mind. He didn’t want the attention. He didn’t want the limelight of being Victor’s muse.

Forced to look elsewhere though, Victor had already found the inspiration for his next season right under his nose - his children.

Switching to kidswear had been an interesting transition for Victor. He seemed more relaxed about his work and the kids were brutally honest about his ideas when they gave their feedback. Similarly, when they gave Victor  _ their _ ideas, it was amusing to watch Victor try and stretch his creativity to make their wild demands adhere to the rules of fashion. So far, Victor had made it work… mostly…

He hadn’t brought them to the wedding. 

Since Yuuri was the invited guest and not him, it would have been rude to ask if he could bring them, he’d argued. Plus, he wouldn’t mind one night off...

“A bit soon though, don’t you think?” Victor said over the rim of his glass, quiet enough that only Yuuri could hear.

Yuuri just shrugged. “If that’s what they want…”

Maybe it was a bit soon. 

It had only been the day after Victor’s custody hearing that Yuuri had gotten the call from Phichit that he was engaged and they wanted to get married as soon as possible - in just two months!

It wasn’t the usual time scale for a wedding… but one look at how happy Phichit was, and Yuuri found he didn’t care. Phichit’s cheeks were all but glowing as he linked his arm through his husband’s, eyes bright and full of joy as he smiled at face after face, camera after camera. Yuuri trusted his best friend’s decisions. He wanted him to be happy. 

“I-is it still what you want one day?” 

“Mh?” Yuuri blinked, only half paying attention. 

When he glanced over though, Victor looked… well, nervous. It made Yuuri’s stomach flip. 

“To get married.”

_ Oh _ .

_ That _ .

He glanced off to the dance floor where the wedding party was moving, thinking carefully about his answer. After a moment-

“No.”

He almost felt the air shift with the double take Victor took. “ _ No _ ?”

Yuuri’s lips tweaked in a smile at Victor’s surprise, enjoying the reaction. It wasn’t often that Victor Nikiforov was on the end of surprises…

“We nearly got married the first time,” Yuuri just shrugged, keeping his eyes on the party and hoping Victor didn’t notice the slight clench to his jaw. “It wasn’t enough to keep us together then. Why would it now?”

“Do you …” Victor cleared his throat softly. “Do you want to be together?”

Yuuri still hadn’t moved back in.

He’d asked Victor along to the wedding because he had no time to find anybody else, to show Phichit that Victor wasn’t as bad as he thought, because Victor needed a night off … but they weren’t a couple. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t hold hands. They were just friendly.

The fact that Yuuri was still completely in love with him was just a traitorous side note…

Yuuri swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

_ He always would. _

“But if we keep chasing romantic ideals like weddings and marriage,” he sighed, dropping his gaze down to his champagne glass and watching the bubbles pop. “We’ll always be disappointed with the reality.”

That had been their downfall in the first place, according to Victor’s confession. Victor had wanted the ideals of love, the fiery passion of what he’d thought it was supposed to feel like instead of the simmering reality. Marriage felt like another branch of that same expectation. Yuuri didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He  _ had  _ wanted to get married - ten years ago, to the dumb Russian idiot who had chased him around the world. 

Victor wasn’t that man anymore. 

Instead, he was a devoted father who went to the ends of the earth and back for his children, who had moulded a place for Yuuri in their family home and made him feel welcome, who had still believed in Yuuri’s talents even after not hearing a single word from him in ten years, when Yuuri had been at his rock bottom...

...but now, he was a silent man. 

Victor didn’t say anything, the quiet seconds between them ticking on by. 

Yuuri took a nervous sip of his champagne.

What if he was wrong? Perhaps Victor didn’t understand. What if Victor hadn’t grown up as much in the last ten years as he’d thought? What if Victor still wanted that fairytale ending that Yuuri just knew would feel like a bitter memory compared to how it should have gone ten years ago-

Finally, Victor nodded. 

“I’d said I wanted something just like this,” he said, voice soft. 

Yuuri swallowed thickly, desperate to fill the lingering silence. “What’s wrong with this?” 

He all but flinched when Victor glanced over to him, his heartbeat quick in his chest and hands clammy. He was prepared for Victor to say it, that it wasn’t enough that it was over - he didn’t want it! But he was ready…

A smile curved Victor’s lips in the same moment his hand brushed Yuuri’s, fingers lacing delicately with his.

“Nothing,” he said with a comforting squeeze. “This is perfect.”

* * *

When Yuuri skipped over the road across from Victor’s building one sunny afternoon, he was in a good mood. He’d passed his probation at work a month early and was looking forward to taking Victor and the kids out for ice cream to celebrate. They should be home from their mother’s by no-

Yuuri froze in his tracks, feet from the apartment.

Dasha was walking out.

Her eyes flashed with surprise when she caught sight of him, sweeping him from head to toe. He looked different now compared to how she had always seen him before.  _ Better _ .

Not that anybody would know it by the way her eyes narrowed at him. “You’re still here.” 

Her voice wasn’t as biting as usual, Yuuri noticed.

He also noticed how her eyes were just a little bit dull, her shoulders just a little bit slumped. She seemed… distant. 

For some reason, looking at her made Yuuri feel sad.

He swallowed down the wave of nerves bubbling inside him, fiddling with the hem of his jacket to distract himself. “Actually, I’m just visiting. I, um ... I live in my own apartment now.”

He wasn’t sure if he should really be telling her, but it was true. He hadn’t moved back in with Victor after the court hearing.

He’d wanted to… but it hadn’t been right. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes again. They’d been rushed and careless the last time and it had nearly cost Victor his kids. Yuuri wanted them to take their time this time around, to do it right. It had more chance of actually lasting that way.

He’d been worried about the kids, that they wouldn’t understand - he was still around the apartment so much still though that they didn’t seem to mind. He was still a part of their little family.

He didn’t want Dasha to misunderstand though. Even though he didn’t live with Victor, he had no intention of going anywhere.

Folded arms were all that answered him.

Yuuri glanced away, taking a deep breath. “How’s Pasha?” 

“Fine.”

Yuuri sighed. 

He was trying. He’d realised that even if Dasha didn’t like him, he should make an effort to be civil. She was the kids’ mother. She would always be in their lives. 

And he hadn’t meant to ruin hers the way he had in that courtroom. Getting her own visitation stripped had never been his intention. He still remembered the horrified look on her face from that day, how devastated she had been...

“I’m sorry,” he said, needing to get it off his chest. “I never meant for everything to happen the way it did.”

He knew she didn’t want to hear it. 

But it was true. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t a monster, that he hadn’t tried to take her kids away from her no matter how it had appeared. It had just … happened.

Dasha’s lips pursed, anger flashing in her eyes.

For a moment, Yuuri thought she was going to snap. She hadn’t seen him since the court date - and she must hate him! There must be a wave of things she wanted to yell and scream at him for the part he played in taking her kids away.

Yuuri braced himself, flinching away slightly.

“I’ll never like you, you know,” she just said, softer than Yuuri had expected. There was a despondency in her eyes. “I can’t.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly. “I know.”

He’d long accepted it already.

“You stole my husband.”

It took everything in Yuuri not to outright laugh at that one though. Instead, he just crossed the last of the street and buzzed in the security code for Victor’s building, pulling the door open when the lock clicked.

The conversation was over.

“Fact is,” Yuuri glanced back over his shoulder, catching Dasha’s eye again. He held his head high. “You stole him first.”

* * *

Victor wasn’t surprised when he got the call from Yura’s dance teacher that his son had been fighting. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken so long. Yura was so scrappy and short tempered it had been a miracle they’d gotten so far down the line without incident. He still wasn’t exactly pleased that it had finally caught up with them though.

The reason for it however, did surprise him.

“He was being mean about Yuuri.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “What?”

The dance teacher sat across from Victor and Yura with a stern look on her face in the empty dance studio, other kids long since gone. There had been one kid rubbing his face and looking a little grumpy, Victor vaguely remembered. 

Yura didn’t look remotely sorry though, crossing his arms tightly over his little chest and scowling. “Because I said he was my dad.”

That floored Victor.

“Y-you did?”

“Mh-hm.”

Victor blinked, stunned. 

He’d always known that his kids liked Yuuri and that had been more than good enough for him. He’d never thought beyond that though…

The best he could come up with in that moment though, was a slack jaw and a - “Huh.”

“Mr Nikiforov, we can’t have fighting in our class,” the teacher said gently, jolting him back to reality. “It was an unprovoked attack-”

“He said that people can’t have two dads.”

Victor frowned down at his son. “He said what?”

“He  _ said, _ ” Yura huffed. “That kids can only have a mum and a dad, and that I was stupid-”

The teacher cleared her throat. “That’s enough now, Mr Nikiforov-”

“-and I told him that the judge lady proved it and that she would send him to jail-”

“Yuri-”

“-but he laughed and said Yuuri wasn’t my real dad-”

“Yura, please-”

“So I punched him in the face.”

Victor just stared. 

A violent end to a stupid comment … but in that moment Victor had never been so proud of his son, feeling his heart swell in his chest. He fought the urge to scoop his son up in his arms there and then - the teacher wouldn’t approve. He shouldn’t encourage fighting … but fighting for what Yura believed in, for what was right? 

Victor couldn’t say he disapproved.

He apologised to the teacher. He reassured her that Yura would be punished at home. He smiled, shook her hand and wished her a good day… 

The second he was out that door though-

“That’s my boy,” he beamed, ruffling his hand through Yura’s hair and ignoring the little hands trying to swat him away. “Let’s go get you some waffles.”

* * *

It took Yuuri a second to connect the dots as he woke up one weekend, already frowning before he’d even opened his eyes. His arm shot out to Victor’s side of the bed. 

It was empty.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat - where was he? Victor didn’t usually get out of bed without a cuddle, especially on the more relaxed weekends.

They were supposed to be moving the last of Yuuri’s things into the apartment that weekend, finishing moving him in properly to the family home again. They’d felt it was time. Yuuri had felt it was right, slowly finding his place back in their little family.

Yuuri’s heart picked up, fingers curling in the bare sheets beside him. They were still warm. It couldn’t be-

“Sorry!”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped to the door - just in time to see Victor slipping back into the bedroom with a whisper. His hair was still wild with sleep, still dressed in the sweatpants he’d slept in. He closed the door over, not quite shutting it. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Yuuri pushed himself up on his elbows in bed, squinting across the bedroom. Victor looked like he was smiling.

"Where were you?" 

He wasn’t just smiling, Yuuri realised as Victor slid back into bed again, folding the sheets back over his lap like he had never been gone - he was beaming! 

"Making my own surprise breakfast," he said, picking up Yuuri’s hand and threading their fingers together. 

Yuuri’s frown dug deeper.

"What?" 

Victor chuckled, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. "The boys wanted to make us breakfast in bed but they needed help making the actual breakfast. The orange juice is in old sippy cups so they don't spill. Don't say anything though, Beka said it wasn’t a real breakfast without juice."

Yuuri was beyond confused.

He was still finishing blinking the sleep out of his eyes as the words rambled through his head in a confused bumble, bouncing off his brain rather than sinking in.

He didn’t have time to ask though before the bedroom door nudged open a second later. The boys stood in the doorway, still wearing their pyjamas and - just like Victor had said - Beka was carrying a little breakfast tray. Orange filled sippy cups and two plastic bowls were carefully balanced on top. Yura still looked half asleep beside his brother, stuffed tiger tucked under his arm and yawning. 

“Ah, boys!” Victor beamed at his sons, throwing a sneaky wink at Yuuri. “What a nice surprise!” 

He threw his arms wide as Yura slowly crawled up onto the bed and pulled his youngest between him and Yuuri, Beka carefully setting the breakfast tray over his father’s lap before scrambling up over his legs too.

Yuuri wrapped an arm around the sleepy Yura, leaning over to see their feast. He perked up a little when he saw the bowls were actually filled with the boy’s chocolatey cereal that he’d been eyeing up for the last few weeks rather than his own boring bran flakes. He smiled as Victor handed him a sippy cup, pulling the lid off the top and taking a swig. It was a simple breakfast, but it was nice. Yuuri sat himself up fully in bed before he took the bowl that Beka handed him, balancing it carefully in his lap. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, finally waking up as the mere sight of sugar hit him. “This is really nice.”

He wasn’t sure what the occasion was. Perhaps it was because of his moving in? If that was the case, then he should have moved in months ago if this was the kind of treatment he should have been expecting! 

He had a nagging feeling that he was missing something though. The boys were good boys, but they weren’t  _ that _ good. Not breakfast-in-bed-without-reason good…

It was only when he spotted the card in Yura’s hand though that it hit him.

_ The reason.  _

“Oh my God,” he suddenly realised, half spluttering on his orange juice. He looked over to Victor, mouth falling open. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten… “Happy Father’s Day!”

Father's Day - of course! Yuuri had remembered it last week… and then had promptly forgotten it again. Suddenly, it all made sense. That was why they were getting the special treatment that morning - because of Victor! He looked every part the proud father as he sat with his children around him, positively glowing while his sons stole sneaky pinches from his cereal bowl.

The heart shaped smile that bloomed over Victor's face as Yuuri leaned over to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek was simply breathtaking. 

"Thank you," he grinned. 

Yuuri was already trying to work out how he could make up for lost time. The kids may have done a nice breakfast in bed for their father but maybe Yuuri could treat them out to a nice lunch and a day out in the park together later or-

He didn’t even think as Yura shoved the card into his hands and cut off his mental rambling, the boy already curling into his side to go back to sleep. Yuuri didn’t even pause to look at it, instantly reaching over the sleeping youngster to pass it to Victor.

A sleepy hand slapped at his arm from below.

“No,” Yura grumbled, eyes already closed.

It was only then that Yuuri noticed the card already in Victor’s hand, Otabek watching him intently as he froze with the spare card in hand. 

“For you,” he said simply.

Yuuri felt his heart stop.

There was a lump in his throat as he glanced down to the card in hand, turning it over slowly. ‘ _ Yuuri’  _ was written on the back of the envelope. 

His breath caught.

He hoped the kids didn’t notice the slight tremble to his fingers as he peeled the envelope seal open and carefully pulled out the paper card inside. It was definitely handmade. Yuuri smiled with watery eyes at the rough hand drawn picture on the front, of two adult figures that resembled him and Victor and two smaller ones between them, unmistakably the boys. Their little family. It was perfect. It couldn’t get any more perfect…

...until it did.

Yuuri gasped as he opened the card, slapping a hand over his mouth to hide his quivering lip.

The word ‘ _ Otou-san _ ’ leapt out at him from the top of the page.

He could already feel the tears slipping through his eyelashes as he looked up and caught Beka’s smile. _ A smile!  _

Victor was nothing short of beaming too as Yuuri swept his glance over to him, the adoration that stared back simply melting his heart in his chest. He was helpless to resist as Victor reached up and carefully peeled Victor’s hand away from his mouth, turning it over in his own to graze a kiss over his knuckles.

“Happy Father’s Day, Yuuri," he sighed, breath tingling over Yuuri’s skin.

Yuuri’s heart had never felt so full.


End file.
